Touch
by Artemis Bloodshadow
Summary: A unique murderer has set his sights on Azumano. As the body count goes up, the police realize they're out of thier element. So, as a favor, an FBI agent is sent to lend a psychic hand. Can she and Satoshi stop the killer in time to save a life? SatoxOC
1. Prologue

Disclaimer: I don't own D.N.Angel.

Touch

Prologue

(A.N.) For intents and purposes of this fanfiction, the characters are fifteen going on sixteen instead of fourteen going on fifteen.

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My name is Cassandra Simon. I am fifteen years old, the youngest detective in America. Of course, I'm no ordinary detective. The other cops only bring me in when something terrible happens, something that no human being should be able to do to another.

It's my job to get inside your head, if you're a killer that is. All I need is a touch, and then you have no secrets from me, none. Sometimes, I don't even need to touch you. Sometimes, I just need to be where you've been, touched what you've touched... Something like the corpses you leave behind. I can see what happened, feel the emotions and impressions you've left behind.

I don't know what it's like to be normal, to run or gossip like other girls my age. Since graduating college, I haven't been to a school, except for a case.

But now... Now I'm going to Japan, to a high school for a new assignment. The details?

Gruesome.

A young woman, one Numai Chisato, seventeen and a junior in high school, has been murdered. She was kidnapped on Monday, February 25 of this year. A man-hunt was launched, the entire area searched for the girl. Her picture was handed out. A heart-shaped face, dark brown hair, wide brown eyes, petite build... All of it graced posters and the backs of milk cartons nation wide.

She was found six days later in the town's harbor, dead. Cause of death? Multiple stab wounds were concentrated in the abdomen. She had been raped, and evidence of torture and restraints were found.

Chisato was the first of three.

The next one was Yahagi Kayoko. Also brown-eyed and brown-haired and small, the sixteen-year-old bore a close resemblance to the first victim. Kayoko disappeared a week after the bloody discovery of Numai Chisato's broken body. On March 13, her body was discovered on a "raft" of animal bones and wood that was floating in a well visited cove also close to the girl's hometown.

This time, the vic was posed, a macabre model for the forensic photographer. She had also died of knife wounds to the stomach, and had also been raped, with evidence of other torture.

The killer began to taunt the police.

Notes began to arrive, small jibes at the authorities. The killer boasts how intelligent he is, how artistic.

Following the new pattern, the killer kidnapped another girl, eighteen-year-old Nanahara Izumi, a week after the finding of Kayoko. Again, the vic was dark-haired, brown, and had brown eyes. She was also a petite person.

Another six days later, March 26, Izumi was found by a local fisherman on the banks of a small river used for leisure fishing. She fit the M.O: Stab wounds, rape, and torture.

She was posed as well.

By this time, the town was still unaware of the killings. All three girls had had minimal family, none of whom lived close by. The bodies where secreted away by the police and the coroner, the officers' mouths ordered shut. So as not alarm the public I suppose. The girls are still listed as missing, but everyone who doesn't know better assumes they're just out somewhere, that their disappearances are nothing more than an effort to rile up their parents and friends. The police, on the other hand, scrambled, not prepared for such a horrible crime. The worst that they had ever dealt with was a talented thief called Dark Mousy, whom, I was told, was still at large. The murders were being investigated, but no one could deduce much.

There were no suspects.

This is why they called the F.B.I. and asked if they could borrow me. That is why I am on the red eye to Japan, to this sleepy little town that is a victim of a butcher. I am going to go in with a cover, a new student at the local high school. It has all been arranged.

They called, and I was dispatched. Why me, do you ask?

Because I am Detective Cassandra Simon.

Because I have yet to not solve a case.

Because I am a psychic.

Because all it takes is one, little touch.

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(A.N.) So what do you think? I've never done a mystery before, so I'm kind of shooting blind. Also, all reviews are appreciated, even flames. Please just be nice about. I am always eager to get advice so that I can improve.


	2. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I really shouldn't have to be putting this, but I know that there is some smart ass out there that would point it out if I didn't, so here it is.

Touch

Chapter 1

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I hate to fly. In fact, I hate heights in general, and frankly, I'm terrified of them. It's just a phobia I've had for a long time now. One of my first visions had been of a woman who'd committed suicide by jumping off a skyscraper in Atlanta, Georgia. I'd seen the ground rushing to meet her body, felt the sudden agony of flesh and bone crashing into hard pavement. Her name was Katherine. Katherine Cavanaugh. I haven't been able to look out a window higher than a ground floor one ever since.

So here I was, flying business class to Japan thousands of miles above the earth and praying to whatever deity that would listen that the damned flight would end really soon. My hands were sore from gripping the arms of my "comfy" seat too hard. The guy in a snazzy Armani suit that was sitting next to me kept glancing over at me worriedly, as if he thought I was going to pass out.

Which I was considering.

I checked my watch. The big, digital numerals told me that it was 3:42 a.m. in the States. Quickly calculation in the fourteen hour time difference, I realized that it was 5:42 p.m. already in Tokyo. That was good. I was going to need some sleep if I was expected to function. And the first person to ask me why I didn't sleep on the plane would probably get yelled at.

One of the flight attendants came over and asked me if I needed anything.

I gave the tired looking brunette a smile, albeit a thin one. "Nothing, thanks."

"You don't like to fly, do you, honey?" she asked kindly, a soft and maternal smile spreading across her face.

"Not really." Gee, what had been the first clue? My death grip on the seat, or my whispered prayers?

"Then why are you on this plane, dear? Why not a boat?"

I smiled at her again, this time grimly. "A boat would take too long, and I have a job to do."

………………………………………………………………………………………………

Ten hours later, without any of the sleep I'd planned on, I stood in front of the Chief of Police of Azumano, where the killer was spreading his "art". I looked like shit. My eyes were bloodshot, making my green-blue pupils stand out in contrast as they floated in all that red. On the ride over, once I'd figured out that I was going to have to see the Chief as soon as I got into town with no time to stop at my hotel, I'd attempted to comb my coppery hair with my fingers but hadn't really accomplished anything more than further mussing it. Eventually, I'd decided to hell with it and gave up, which is why I'm standing here looking like a victim in shock.

"Detective Simon," the young, brown-haired man greeted me as he stood from his chair. He was younger than I'd expected, maybe in his mid-to-late twenties. "I trust you had a good flight?" His English was barely accented and he was practically fluent.

I wasn't sure if he was kidding or not. "Not particularly, Chief Hiwatari. I'm not a big fan of flying."

He walked forward, hand outstretched. "Well, than an extra thank you for flying all the way out to us." He flashed a charmer's smile, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. "_Arigatoo gozaimashita_," he told me, bowing his head.

I ignored the hand. Shaking hands is against the rules since my leather gloves don't always prevent the visions from coming. It is really awkward to see people in a vision that has nothing to do with an investigation and then have to work with them. I'll never forget the vision I'd accidentally gotten off the lead detective from my first case about him and his wife… "_Dooitashimashita_." I laughed at the slight surprise that registered as I accepted his thank you. "I do know some Japanese, sir. My skill isn't great and my accent is horrible, but I can understand and say simple things well enough."

The hand dropped and he replied without missing a beat. "Of course." He returned to his desk. "Please sit, Detective. I take it you've the case reports and other information we sent your superiors."

I sat in the chair opposite him. "Yes, I have. I didn't read your profile though. That would be cheating. Speaking of which, when can I touch the bodies?"

Chief Hiwatari gave me a strange look, probably to do with my "interesting" (as some have called it) phrasing of my request, but answered, "Now, if you're ready. But first, I would like for you to…" His eyes fixed on something behind me, and he seemed to forget that he'd been talking to me. Turning in my seat, I sought out what had captured his attention so fully.

A boy, about my age, was leaning against the doorframe. He looked a tad torn up and his dark blue, almost sapphire, eyes glared angrily at Chief Hiwatari.

"Ah, Satoshi," the older man greeted, smooth as oil, and stood with his hands planted flat on the desk top, "How did it go? Did you catch him?" He asked it in Japanese with just the barest hint of mockery that said he already knew the answer, but it would have passed as polite in less attentive company. Something was beginning to strike me as sour with this guy. He was too smooth, too polished.

Too much like a politician.

Like many cops, I am not a fan of politicians and their disregard for the rest of humanity, their two-faced behavior. Politicians and beaurocrats are the ones that usually slow down an investigation, making apprehending the perp harder. While the idiots in politics impede our work, the killer or rapist gets to strike again and again.

The blue-haired boy, Satoshi, walked into the room slowly. He moved stiffly, holding his back perfectly erect. One arm clutched at hi side and I saw, once he passed me, that high on his back he had two wounds about six inches long just to the inside of his shoulder blades. The white cloth of his shirt had thin streaks of blood on it.

"I told you to stay out of it," Satoshi told the older man coldly. He glanced down at me and looked away contemptuously. "Is she your new puppet? Your new Mio?"

I may not speak the God forsaken language but I can sure as hell understand it!

"Sorry to disappoint you," I stated, not the least bit sorry, and pushed myself out of the chair, "but I'm the puppet of the United States government. Who's Mio, by the way?"

Satoshi looked at me with a bit more attention, frowning. "American? No wonder your accent is terrible."

I gave him an unfriendly look. "If you'd forced yourself to learn a language from one of those 'For Dummies' books in eight hours on a red-eye flight, then your accent would be bad too."

Chief Hiwatari cut off whatever Satoshi's reply was going to be, "Satoshi, this is Special Detective Cassandra Simon from the F.B.I. Detective Simon, this is Satoshi Hiwatari, my son."

"A pleasure," Satoshi replied dryly, bowing stiffly. These Asian courtesy customs must really irritate people when they have to be nice no matter what was going on.

"Nice to meet you too," I replied, trying my absolute hardest to at least mimic being polite.

"She's here to help us find our killer. Which reminders me, Satoshi, you and she are now, as of this moment, the lead investigators in the case," Hiwatari continued.

The hell?

"I already have a job, Father," Satoshi half-hissed. His anger and…fear? was palpable.

Hiwatari waved Satoshi's protest aside. "Dark can wait."

"But others can't," Satoshi rebutted, just the faintest hint of a plea creeping into his voice. There was something strange about his voice now too. It had a slight accent, as if someone else was speaking besides Satoshi Hiwatari.

That's ridiculous. I'm definitely suffering from lack of sleep.

"Yes, they can." Chief Hiwatari said firmly, tone hard and maybe a bit cruel. The two of them stared at each other with what felt like mutual and intense hatred.

Wow, talk about an awkward silence. I hate it when family squabbles break out at inconvienient times.

"Um…gentlemen?" The both glanced at me, barely breaking their eye contact. "This is fascinating and all, but I would like to get started soon. You two can fight later, on your own time if you don't mind. I came here to get this done. Chief Hiwatari, I ask you again, when can I touch the bodies?"

"Now, as I said before," the brunette answered.

"Good. Now that that's settled, here are the few rules I have about the way I work. One, you will not ever touch my hands, especially if I am not wearing gloves. Two, do not touch my belongings. I don't want to pick up anything you imprint on them by accident. Three, I go everywhere armed. There are no exceptions. I have put some influential people in jail, and they have friends that may want some retribution. Four, the minute I hear a psychic joke or someone second-guesses my ability, I am gone. Five, remember that you are not my boss, and are not someone I am required to report to." I paused for a minute to let him absorb these conditions and then moved on, "If you can remember those five things, I'm sure we'll get along just fine." I made sure to finish with a smile.

Hiwatari seemed to think about that for a while then nodded. "One of the men will take you to the coroner's office. Both of you." His tone brooked any and all argument.

I noticed a small ribbon of blood slowly dripping down Satoshi's back, the dark red liquid staining the tattered cloth of his shirt. The growing crimson spots of blood were downright disturbing. I let my unease show. "If he's supposed to come with me, he should see a doctor first." I hoped the way I said it translated as "Argue and die".

The Chief barely spared a glance for his son. "He won't need it."

My mouth almost fell open. Satoshi was bleeding for Christ's sake! He was also supporting his side with his arm, a classic sign of cracked or broken ribs. Satoshi was in need of stitches and x-rays. Can't his commander, his father, see that?

I must have let my opinion show openly on my face, because Hiwatari hastened to assure me that Satoshi could handle it. Resisting the urge to tell him to fuck off and take Satoshi to a hospital was difficult. But I didn't.

Me and Satoshi exited the office and he led me to the waiting unmarked police car. Another officer was waiting to drive us. Really classy.

Once in the backseat, I turned to my new "partner". "Are you going to be okay?" I asked skeptically.

"I'll be fine," he said, words short and clipped.

"If you say so." There was nothing I could do if he didn't want medical treatment. I leaned back into the seat, closing my eyes. So tired… "How long until we reach the morgue?" Maybe I could catch some sleep…

"About forty-five minutes, ma'am," the officer driving replied, pulling out of the station's parking lot.

The ma'am part rankled, but I let it go. Forty minutes was all I was going to get so I'll make the best of it. "Wake me up when we get there please."

I was asleep in no time at all.

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(A.N.) Well, like or dislike? Tell me! REVIEW!


	3. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I don't own D.N.Angel.

Touch

Chapter 2

(A.N.) So, I finally updated! I'm very happy with that. I've been writing this chapter for a week, or something obnoxious like that, and so it's gotten a lot of attention that my stories don't usually get. Hopefully, that means this chapter will be really good. Well, read and find out. Then tell me what you think!

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_Drip. Drip drip._

_Where is it coming from?_

_Drip drop._

_The thick wet sounds ring in my head, ricocheting around endlessly. Almost like the voice of Echo. I take a few steps forward in the darkness. My shoes make dull thuds as they make contact with the surprisingly solid floor. I listen closely, straining my ears. Hands outstretched as a blind person would, I continued forward._

_Drip drip drop drip._

_Is it water? No, it can't be. It's too heavy a sound. It sounds more like oil or paint or… _

"_Or blood." _

_The words grow weighty in the silence, weighty and ominous. I stop walking and I faintly hear another set of steps, too fast to be mere echoes of my own movements. My heart begins to pound. Someone is following me._

"_Who's there?" I call out. But it is as if my voice is swallowed up by the heavy dripping sounds and the shadows. _

_A soft whooshing noise answers me, sort of like the sound of cloth but more delicate and at the same time, more powerful. _

_I try again, "Hello?"_

"_What are you doing here?" a strangely accented voice asks back. "You don't belong."_

"_Who-?"_

"_LEAVE!"_

_A tremendous force struck me in the sternum and I was flung backwards. The solid floor I thought had existed gave way beneath me and I fell endlessly in the dark._

Someone was shaking my shoulders as I jerked out of the dream, out of breath and disoriented. It's always strange to be falling in a dream and then wake up on your back, almost as if you had falling back into your body. Then again, maybe I did. Who knows what dreams are? Most agree that they are the subconscious' way of working through your repressed stresses and fears and so forth. Some mystics disagree. Some believe that the really vivid dreams are really journeys into a spiritual plane. Either way, I didn't like how mine ended. I'm not accustomed to being shoved anywhere, spirit or subconscious.

"Detective Simon," Hiwatari said, "We're almost to the morgue."

I sighed heavily. "Already? Jesus, I hate this job sometimes."

"Only sometimes?" the officer driving, whose name was Yamakawa, joked as he steered the car into a small asphalt parking area for a solitary building of a light colored stone. The light flickered rapidly, on the verge of being snuffed completely. I hope it doesn't go out. After that dream, I really don't want to be in the dark right now.

Swinging into a parking space with long practiced ease, the officer killed the engine and all three of us proceeded to exit the car; the officer and Hiwatari with relative grace, I sort of stumbled and got lucky by not falling flat on my ass.

As we walked up to the building, I took note of the small, unobtrusive plaque that I couldn't read. I assume it labeled the building as the local coroner's office. Generally, picking up languages isn't too big of a deal. A couple of useful phrases are what I end up learning, usually. But I'd never worked in Japan and my colleagues had informed me that the Japanese kind of didn't like foreign people coming to work in Japan who didn't make an effort to learn their language. To completely blow off learning some of the lingo before entering the nation was considered bad manners. Besides, I have a feeling that I might be here a while, so knowing Japanese is going to make my life easier. It can't be worse than German.

We entered the office and I wanted to shield my eyes. The entire décor was white and pale, pale blue and green. The secretary's desk was chrome and the computer equipment was white. Also matching the color scheme were the chairs and side tables. No pictures on the walls to relieve the harsh florescent lighting.

Head snapping up as we entered, the secretary stared for a long moment, then, as he realized he was being rude, his head snapped down again. White forms appeared out of some drawer that I couldn't see and the black haired clerk set them on the lip of the desk. Next, he stood and bowed, "_Ohayoo gozaimasu_," he greeted politely.

Morning? I glanced at the white clock on the wall to my left and sure enough, it was five o'clock in the damn morning. God help me, I'd been awake for at least twenty hours. Rubbing my bloodshot eyes, I followed the example of the two Japanese I'd been traveling with and said, "_Ohayoo_."

Seeming surprised, the secretary fixed his beady eyes on me. I guess not too many Americans show up here. Or maybe it was my appearance. Absently, I brushed at the coffee stain on the right leg of my worn out jeans, then attempted to straighten my green and lopsided button-up men's dress shirt. I didn't bother to button it up, even though it was cold in the office and my shoulder holster and the gun, a Berretta 9mm, were clearly visible. My gloves were starting to chafe too, damn it.

Yawning, I watched as the Commander relayed what we were here for to the clerk. The man nodded vigorously, saying "_Hai_" every several words that Hiwatari said. Then, the brunette man picked up the phone on his desk and informed the coroner of what he had just been told. As he hung up, he motioned to the forms he had placed on the desk when we had entered. Signing the forms was a tad challenging. You have no idea how long it took to learn the kanji characters for "detective" and then the katakana characters for my name. Because of long practice, the thick leather gloves on my hands didn't even hinder me as I wrote.

Once I, Hiwatari, and Yamakawa had signed in, the secretary gave us directions to the autopsy room in the back of the facility. Moments later, we entered the cold, sterile room. Stainless steel cabinets and counters lined the walls, while gurneys and mobile tool trays occupied the center. In the far wall, a door was located, leading to the room where the kept the corpses on ice, no doubt.

A small man, the coroner, was currently rolling out the fourth body that I would be touching tonight—morning—and he looked at us gravely. Covering all four bodies were white sheets, bright, clean, and somehow darkly foreboding. In the States, they would have been blue. I'm no stranger to morgues but, every time I go in one, I'm struck by the cold impartiality it seems to embody. It makes me want to shield the deceased from it, even though they are long past caring.

Introducing himself quietly as Aisho Shinji-_sensei_, the medical examiner bowed slightly and then continued to line up the bodies in a single row. The man was quick and efficient, like so many other people I'd met with his job.

Solemnly stepping forward, I went and stood next to the first body in the line. "_Numai Chisato wa?_" I asked, carefully enunciated the foreign words.

"_Hai_," Aisho-_sensei_ assented.

"Miss Simon?" Hiwatari said in English.

Turning back to him tiredly, I began to remove the green shirt to reveal the white sleeveless tee underneath. "Someone my age should definitely not be calling me 'Miss Simon'. It makes me feel old. Call me Cassie, or Cassandra, or just Simon. Hell, 'Detective' would work. Just leave off the 'Miss' part."

Impassively, he continued, "Are you sure that you're up for this? Mistakes are made if the investigator is too tired to function."

Prick.

"I guess I could say the same for you, Hiwatari. Bleeding definitely qualifies as distracting, probably more so than sleepiness," I replied scathingly and with a smile. Pulling on the fingers of my left glove to loosen it, I began to remove the full-length leather prison. Even well oiled and worn leather irritates the skin, so I try not to wear the damn things for longer than fifteen hours at a time. But during a case, that doesn't happen. Going non-stop for thirty-six hours is the norm for anything high-priority.

I buy more repairing body lotion than anyone would believe.

"Could someone set up the video recording equipment?" I requested in English, removing the other glove and placing it on the counter next to its twin. Getting everything on video is much easier to play back and understand than just a tape recorder. As Officer Yamakawa began to break out the equipment, I began to instruct the three men how this was going to work. "I'll just be touching their hands, their dominant one if you know which one it was. For some reason, I've had better luck with that. Also, this may be very…" I paused to find the right word, "…disturbing. My visions tend to manifest themselves physically, often violently. I have bled doing this." I stressed the last sentence, wanting them to know how weird things could get.

They won't be able say I'd never warned them.

Looking down at Chisato's body, I continued solemnly, "Don't touch me. That's the only rule. Never, ever touch me. I don't care if the apocalypse is pending. Even if I'm being thrown around or bleeding, don't touch me. _Wakarimasu ka_?"

"We understand, Simon-_san_," Hiwatari assured me dryly, "Just do your job."

Bastard. I ask him not to call me "Miss" anything, so he reverts to the Japanese equivalent of the honorific. Holding back a growl, I glanced over to Yamakawa and asked, "Ready?"

The officer nodded.

Then I inquired of Aisho-_sensei_, "Was she right or left handed?"

"Right."

I was already positioned on her right side, so I didn't need to move. "Start the tape, Officer Yamakawa."

There was a small click and then I heard Hiwatari stating everyone's names and ranks in a cool, calm voice. Through the facade he put up, I could tell he was tired. More than tired, actually. Exhausted. He still held himself stiffly because of his injuries.

When he'd finished, I looked over at the blue-haired boy to make sure I was clear to start. Once he nodded and after I'd taken a deep breath, I reached down and gingerly clasped Chisato's right hand between both of my own. Whispering to the girl's corpse, I squeezed her waxy and lifeless hand, "Tell me, Chisato."

My entire body went ridged as the first wave of the vision struck me.

**So scared. Can't see. Why can't I move?**

**Why me?**

"**Please let me go," I beg my voice raw from crying. "_Please_. My family will give you whatever you want, I swear. Just let me go." The salt in my tears stings when they drip over my split lip and down my scraped chin. **

"**But I'm not finished with you, yet, swan. Not yet," a man sings back, actually sounding remorseful.**

The scene changed.

**Still can't move. I fight the bonds, but I am too weak now. Helpless.**

**I feel hands caressing my face. The fingers trail down my neck and then back up to my lips.**

**Panic. Not again.**

**I bite down on the appendage, and hear him howl in agony.**

"**Bitch!" he roars, slapping me soundly across my face. "You'll pay! You'll all pay!"**

**Hands shove me down onto the hard, cold floor and a gag is forced into my mouth.**

**No! Not again! Not-**

"-again! No! Enough!" Flinging Chisato's hand away, I stumbled back until my butt hit the chromed counter. "No…" I panted, hanging my head and shaking my entire body. "No…"

"…Simon-_san_?"

Lifting my head, I looked up at Hiwatari, so out of it that I ended up transfixed by his dark blue eyes for a few seconds. "I'm alright." Wincing as the words left my lips; I touched my mouth and came away with some blood. Resigned, I asked, "Where else?"

"Your arms and your chin, that I can see," Aisho-_sensei_ responding, sounding shocked.

"And your back," Hiwatari added, blue eyes scanning my body for further injury.

Sighing, I turned to the camera, which was still recording and began relaying I had seen and felt as the victim. Now, I could feel the blood running down my shoulders.

Great. Now I need a new shirt.

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(A.N.) If you have any questions reguarding the Japanese, or corrections, please say so! Stay tuned for chapter 3, coming soon (hopefully, but probably not)!


	4. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: Don't own, don't sue.

Touch

Chapter 3

* * *

The three of them watched me, eyes wide. Officer Yamakawa's mouth was slightly open. I guess I can't really blame them for staring so unbelievably. Saying that you just received an empathic vision from a dead body is a bit of a stretch for the rational world. Or rather, the _ignorant_ world. 

Leaning my hip against the shiny steel counter, I wished desperately for a cup of strong tea. Coffee is nice and all and I do drink one or two cups often, but if I overdo it with the caffeine, my powers seem to get more of a zing out of it than my body does.

"Are you ready for victim number two, Simon-_san_?" Aisho-_sensei_ inquired gently as he adjusted the white sheet covering Chisato so that it concealed her hand once more. "You seem very tired," he added, tweaking a corner of the cloth.

Swallowing the urge to say something unbecoming, I replied, "Nah, I'm fine." My hands remained crossed over my chest and motionless as I straightened and walked back to the gurneys. My sneakers squeaked loudly on the clean white tile of the floor and I rolled my shoulders experimentally. When no twinge of an open wound made me wince, I considered the scratches healed. Just like they were supposed to. Most injuries that actually happen during the vision heal up fast, leaving no scars and minimal blood. Unfortunately, that doesn't apply to the blood stains left in my cloths. Because of that, I throw out more shirts than anyone should have to.

"Yahagi Kayoko," said Hiwatari, who stood across from me, "was cut up and burned more pre-mortem than Numai." He watched me intensely, but impassively, from his post against the wall. "You'll take more damage."

I was silent for a moment and then responded, "I know, but my pain will go away. It will heal." _It's the least I can do for them_, I added in my thoughts. Somehow, I think he understood that.

"Was she a righty or a lefty, _Sensei_?" I asked looking down at the covered corpse.

"She was also right handed."

"Alright. Could you pull the sheet away from her right arm, then? Officer Yamakawa, is the tape still rolling?"

"Yes. It's ready when you are," the man stated, tinkering with the buttons on the camera. Probably zooming in or something.

Closing my eyes, I took a deep breath and braced my body in anticipation of the vision. I lowered my hands until I felt cold, rubbery skin under my fingertips.

**I'm walking home from the park. Sweat gelling in the cool night air; I reach my hands high over my head to stretch my muscles. Running is great exercise.**

**A car pulls up beside me. A gray Honda with a man in the driver's seat.**

"**Hey there, Kayoko-_san,_" he greets smoothly, fiddling with his sunglasses.**

**Sunglasses? But the sun has set…**

"**Do I know you?" I demand.**

"**No, but I'm a friend of your brother, Kazuya. Do you need a ride home? I'm on my way there," He smiles when he says it, but I get chills.**

"**Uh, no thanks, buddy. I'm fine." I start to jog away. Creepy freak.**

**The car bumps the back of my legs, and I tumble to the ground.**

"**You should have just gotten in the damn car, swan."**

**A cloth over my mouth and nose. I struggle. **

**Darkness…**

Awareness came back to me slowly, very much unlike the violence of the last time. Pulling my hand away, I accidentally brushed a blackened burn on Kayoko's forearm. A tingling sensation shot up my arm and I knew I was in trouble.

"Simon-_san-_"

**I can't feel my fingers. The ropes are too tight, way too tight.**

**Fingers grip my chin. Squeezing. "Hold still," he orders.**

**Smoke from a cigarette. Smoke from burning flesh. I whimper through the cloth in my mouth.**

**It hurts! **

"**Just one more, swanling," the Man whispers in my ear. **

**I'm glad I can't see the burns. I'm glad I can't see anything.**

**Pain! My arm is sizzling. Burnt flesh.**

**His mouth on my neck. A bite. "I'll make you beautiful."**

**Someone help me.**

**Tears drip down my face. I'd thought I'd run out.**

**Sharp pain in my stomach. I jerk. Another. Blood bubbles in my chest.**

**Another. Another. One, two, three.**

"Simon-_san_!"

"Don't touch her, _Sensei_!"

Stumbling, I crashed down into the floor and I stayed there, hands clamped down over the holes in my abdomen. Blood flowed freely, leaking between my fingers. Groaning, I curled on my side, fighting to breathe. "Mother fu-" My curses were cut off by a fit of coughing.

Slowly, the pain begins to dissipate, and my lungs can work a little better. I push myself up with one arm. "Damn it…"

Dr. Aisho was kneeling next to me, hovering like a good doctor should. I guess being a coroner doesn't take away from all that medical training they get in ER. "Simon-_san_, _dou deshita ka?_"

My brain took its sweet time translating that. "I just got stabbed in the stomach, _Sensei_. How do you think I feel?" I gasped sarcastically through my panting. That fucking hurt.

Looking up at the doctor, he surveyed me reprovingly, clearly not happy with my response. Hiwatari was also looking at me, except his expression clearly said "I told you so." I resisted the urge to glare at him, and instead sat up. Without embarrassment, I lifted up my ruined shirt to inspect my abdomen. I've exposed more skin during an investigation, plus I'm pretty secure in my own body. Huzzah for a good shrink.

I watched the wounds get smaller and smaller until all that was left was reddish residue on my stomach.

"_Subarashii_," Aisho-_sensei_ breathed as I lowered my shirt.

"I know, _Sensei_, it is amazing," I told him with a smile. "And very convenient. Too bad it doesn't happen when I get hurt any other way. Then I heal like everyone else."

Pushing to my feet, I groaned as the muscles in my stomach twitched violently. The downside to quick healing is that it sometimes happens too fast and so the body can't keep up. "Well, that was interesting."

"Are you joking?" Officer Yamakawa asked, sounding shocked.

"I think she means that she learned something, Officer," Hiwatari said quietly. He had moved from his position at the wall to next to the last gurney in the line.

"Brilliant deduction, Sherlock," I muttered, feeling annoyed. I don't know why, but his presence was starting to antagonize me. And I mean in a huge way. Maybe it was because I was still pissed that he was being stubborn with his injuries, or maybe I was just suffering from lack of sleep. But it was like his… I hate to us this word, but… Well, his _aura_ was prickling my preternatural senses a little too much.

"So, Simon-_san_, what did you see this time?" the blue-eyed youth asked, shifting his weight slightly from one foot to the other.

"Well, our guy was driving a late-model Honda with dark leather interior," I informed them, my eyes looking into the camera. I went on, filling in the details as best I could. When I finished, I signaled Officer Yamakawa to pause the recording. As I had recounted the vision and mentally compared it to the one I had gotten off of Chisato, something had struck me as odd.

Frowning thoughtfully, I leaned against the counter again. "I couldn't smell him."

"_Nani_?" all three males in the room questioned.

I repeated it, louder this time. "I could smell blood, burnt flesh, sweat, and a myriad of other things that came from the _victim_, but I couldn't smell anything from the killer. That's never happened before. Even if he'd taken a shower, I'd smell soap or shampoo. I don't care if you are covered head to foot in latex, I'd smell _something_. Anything. It's practically impossible for someone to have no scent."

"That is curious," Aisho-_sensei_ admitted.

Everyone one else was silent.

Finally, I straightened and instructed Yamakawa to resume filming.

Aisho-_sensei_ was already in motion, folding back the left side of the white sheet covering the third body. "Nanahara Izumi was left handed," he said moving away.

The pale hand was covered in scrapes and bruises. Her knuckles were especially battered. Defensive wounds. Izumi had fought, and fought hard.

I lowered my hands towards Izumi's, but couldn't quite bring myself to go that extra inch. Even though I don't do this every single day, and at worst I have maybe two cases a year, but I really didn't want to see anything else today. I was tired.

"_Tantei_?"

Startled, I looked up at Hiwatari. "What is it?"

"You've been standing like that for a while. For a moment, I'd thought you'd fallen asleep standing up," he commented.

Was it just me, or was he slightly amused by that?

"I'm fine," I insisted, resigned. Turning my gaze back to the body, Izumi's body, I closed my eyes and breathed deeply. The familiar tensing of my body followed. I was dimly aware that Hiwatari had moved closer, and then heard Yamakawa follow with the camera in tow. And then, slowly, I rested my warm hand on the lifeless one on the table.

**I am writing in my journal, swinging idly on the old swing in my family's backyard.**

**Peaceful.**

**A twig snapped to my right, loudly. I turn, startled. No one should be here. Mom won't be home for another hour or so.**

**There was no one there.**

**Pain exploded in the back of my skull.**

A whirl of color and sound and I found myself in another scene.

**Just a little bit more. **

**The stone slid in my hand. My fingers were slick with my own blood. I tightened my grip.**

**Faster. **

**The knots give a little. **

**A door opens, and then closes. **

**He's back.**

**Faster faster faster. Come on, Izumi, faster!**

**The rope falls from my wrists. Then I pull the blindfold off my eyes and scramble out of the bindings on my ankles.**

**It's still so dark.**

**Footsteps are closer. **

**He opens the door, but he pauses. And laughs. "Ah, little swan, what now, hm?" He reaches out to me.**

"**No, don't touch me!" I punch at his shadowed face, and manage to graze his teeth. **

**He grabs my arms.**

"**NO!" I kick out, flail.**

**The Man throws me into the wall. And laughs. Comes closer. **

**I get up, ready to fight again. I won't let him touch me again! Not like that!**

**The back of his hand sends me to the floor. Fingers tangle in my hair. They yank me up. Tears flow freely from my eyes.**

**I kick again.**

**He kicks back.**

I flew backwards from the body, the remnants of the vision dancing in my head. Something vaguely soft takes the impact of my body, and I heard someone grunt. I had the briefest moment to register that this was bad, when the next vision caught my awareness.

**I won't let him out again.**

**_Yes you will,_ the monster within me whispers. _You will have no choice._**

**No! Leave me alone, Krad!**

**Pain in my chest brings me to my knees. Not again.**

**Stop it!**

It shattered as agony tore through my body.

People were shouting, but the Japanese was too fast for me to follow. I just leaned against the person behind me, completely dazed. My heart was pounding frantically, and I was dangerously close to hyperventilating.

"Hey, Hiwatari?" I said to the person who I had crashed into.

"What the hell-?"

"That's why I don't like being touched."

* * *

(A.N.) Well, here's chapter three. So I hope you guys enjoyed it. Please review. And a thanks to you readers that did review: White Alchemist Taya, silverwoldSyrus190, Beatrix Kiddo, FallenAngel014, and Cranberry Cocktail. 


	5. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: I'm using my Jedi mind powers…

Touch

Chapter 4

* * *

I was locked in a staring contest with a pair of remarkable blue eyes. Too bad that they belonged to someone who was currently very angry with me. Something about invasion of privacy. I'd been trying to explain that it wasn't my fault, but that was not what Hiwatari was interested in. He wanted to know what I'd seen. 

Right on queue, he said again, "I have a right to know."

"Actually, you don't. If it doesn't pertain to the investigation, then I don't have to tell you a damn thing," I snapped from my position in Aisho-_sensei_'s squishy desk chair.

After relaying the visions I'd gotten off of the third vic, Izumi, the doctor had insisted that the four of us move into his office on the second floor of the building. It was done in all neutral. Beiges and pastels were the decided color scheme. It was very… Well, bland. You'd think that having such a depressing job would make a person want some happy colors around them. Guess not.

Hiwatari's eyes flashed, or maybe it was his glasses, as he shot back icily, "It was a memory of mine, Detective."

"Too bad, Hiwatari," I growled, exhausted. This was not shaping up to be a good day. "It's not like it was my fault. You were standing too close."

"I wasn't aware that there was a minimum of space to where we could stand, Simon. You never mentioned it."

"Why you-!"

"Detective Simon!" Officer Yamakawa protested as I rose from the tan chair. I think he was afraid that I wanted slap his superior.

He was right.

Clenching my re-gloved hands tightly, I restrained myself from acting on that urge. Slowly, I sat back down. "To tell the truth, Hiwatari, I didn't realize it either."

"Admitting you were wrong?"

"Still bleeding?"

Aisho-_sensei_'s head jerked up from his paperwork and then he looked at the blue-haired youth, frowning. "You're injured?"

Hiwatari just glared impassively. Finally, he said, "It's nothing to worry about."

"Perhaps I'd better-"

"I don't need your help, _Sensei_. It'll heal on its own," Hiwatari sighed impatiently, shifting in the chair across from me. It was tan, too.

The coroner stood, tapping the edges of the paper stack against the desk. "Suit yourself, Commander." He straightened and tucked the documents into a manila folder. "I need to take these to my secretary." With that, he exited the room. I think he was miffed that Hiwatari refused his help.

Looking back at the Commander, I groaned inwardly. Whether I liked it or not, I'd have to tell him what happened in my vision. Not wanting to didn't mean that I couldn't. And, frankly, I wanted to know what the hell was going on with him. With a sigh, I looked at Yamakawa. "Officer, would you please leave the room for a moment? I have something I need to discuss with Commander Hiwatari privately.

The man stood, looking slightly surprised, and replied with a polite bow, "_Hai. Sumimasen_."

"_Arigatoo_, Officer," I thanked him as he discreetly shut the office door.

Wishing desperately for an Advil, I faced Hiwatari once again. I hate doing this. "Who is Krad?"

Hiwatari visibly jumped then completely shut down. He was completely unreadable. Expression, body… Every aspect of him had stilled. "Why do you ask?"

I didn't answer right away, rubbing the place over my heart. "Because I'd like to know if you've got a multiple personality or something."

"I don't," he replied carefully.

"Then who the hell is he?"

Silence.

"You're not going to tell me, are you?" I inquired, not expecting an answer. This happened a lot. I see many things, some of them personal to agents I've worked with, and they usually just make more questions instead of answering any. People don't like to tell me things about themselves. Even agents I've worked with since the beginning of my employment with the F.B.I. have been closemouthed about themselves. Deep down, they're unnerved by me. No one talks to someone who makes them feel a negative emotion. It's instinct.

Attempting a friendly smile, I stood again. "If I'm not mistaken, I'm expected in school in five hours so I'm heading to the inn." My muscles protested that that was not enough time to sleep. I told them to shut up. Walking past Hiwatari, who was in the process of standing, I continued, "Let's go find Yamakawa."

After discovering our driver mooching breakfast off the secretary, I thanked the coroner and then we were on our way out. It was still dark, and the parking lot light still flickered precariously over Yamakawa's vehicle. The officer handed Hiwatari the tape from our time in the morgue as he buckled his seat belt. Wordlessly, Hiwatari placed it in a case sitting on the floor of the back seat.

The ride to the bed and breakfast where I was staying was quiet except for the rumble of the engine and the hum of the tires against the paved road. My forehead against the window, I watched the houses and buildings pass by in a blur. Everything was so peaceful. No one knew that a killer was biding his time. Waiting and choosing his next victim. No one even suspected.

I knew I'd dream of what I'd seen. I always do. Sometimes it's exactly what I'd seen first time, and sometimes my imagination improvised in parts. Hell is too weak a word to describe what some of my visions are, but my dreams give a whole new definition to the term "night terror". I would be those girls again, feel their pain and fear.

As the car slowed to a stop in front of a quaint house with a beautiful view of the ocean, I broke the silence, "I'll need to work with a sketch artist to try and get a picture of our guy. I'd draw it myself but I'm not all that good at it."

"So you're not Wonder Woman? That's good to know," Yamakawa commented, sounding amused.

Not really bothering to question why a twenty-something Japanese male police officer would use a Wonder Woman reference, I grinned half-heartedly and answered, "I'd like to see you do better than stick figures, Yamakawa." I opened the door and slid out of the car. "Thanks for the ride. I'll see you both later today."

"_Sayonara_, _Tantei_," Yamakawa yawned.

Hiwatari also bid me farewell and added, "Everything is already in your room here. The key should be under the pot on the right of the door."

And then they were gone.

Wearily, I found the key, and let myself in. The house was comfortably furnished with a combination of Japanese and Western styles. The floors were a dark wood. I couldn't make out everything in the dark and I was bone-tired, so I decide to explore later. Finding a small note left to me by the owner of the B&B that directed me to my room pinned next to the banister of the stairs, I was able to get there and fall into bed without running into any walls.

Just managing to set my alarm for 6:15 in the morning, I fell asleep.

* * *

I now recall how much I hated school, especially the first day in a new one. It's so damn confusing, trying to organize names and put them to faces. The only plus about the Japanese school system is that the students don't have to switch classrooms unless they have a class like P.E. or Home Economics. Instead, the teachers come to the students. Because of this, I only needed to find my own way to one classroom. Definitely easier than the aimless fight through a crowded hallway trying to find your elusive next class. 

Hell. Pure hell.

The other downside to being new is that everyone is curious about you. People ask questions, sometimes ones with no easy answers.

For example, almost every single student in my class has asked me what has brought me to Azumano High School and since I can't tell them about my, ah, work, then I have to lie. I'm an exceptional liar when I need to be, but I don't particularly like it. Having been raised like a good Christian girl, I'd been raised to believe that lying is wrong. But once you work under the law, you learn a poker face. You learn how to manipulate the truth so that it is neither the truth nor a lie. It is too much of both to be either.

Know how I answered people? I told them, "My family has me looking for a very elusive man. He says he's an artist. But I'm not allowed to be here and not go to school, so… Here I am." And then I'd smile lightly. Not the truth, but not a complete lie. Almost omission, but not quite.

As the instructor began her lesson in Geometry, I listlessly took notes like everyone else. The red-haired boy in front of me, who had introduced himself earlier as Niwa Daisuke, had abandoned copying the figures on the board for sketching idly in his notebook.

I fought the urge to get up and leave. This stuff went completely over my head. Perhaps I should've actually gone to school instead of going straight out of seventh grade to Quantico. I graduated the basic training with honors. I excelled at Criminology and marksmanship. But I'd never been required to do any math.

When was I going to use anything more complicated than algebra in my life?

Hm… Let me think… Oh, never.

A muffled thunk drew my almost comatose attention from the board to the boy sitting two desks to my right. Snoring quietly, he was sound asleep facedown in his notes. I think his name was Saehara Takeshi, Inspector Seahara's son.

Suppressing a giggle, I glanced back to the far end of the room at Hiwatari. Imagine my surprise when I'd walked in to discover him lurking at the back of the classroom. He'd glanced up from that tiny notebook of his and looked at me over the top of his glasses, then nodded in acknowledgment. Currently, he was staring at the front of the room as if he was paying attention, but his mind was clearly elsewhere. Perhaps he was thinking about the murders. Or maybe it was something to do with "Krad". Who knows?

We, the students, jumped when the lunch bell rang. Saehara fell out of his desk with a yelp, as did two other boys. A girl almost fell, but was saved by falling in the wrong direction. Instead of crashing to the floor, she became one with the metal bar connecting her chair to her desk.

Almost the instant that the teacher exited the room; I was swarmed by inquisitive teens once again. One girl, a russet-haired girl with brown eyes, asked, "Simon-_san, shumi wa nan desu ka_?"

Hobbies? "_Anoo… Dokusho to hito ga mimasu._" Reading and watching people. At least that was true.

"_Soo desu ka?_"

I smiled at her. "_Hai, _Harada-_san_."

Saehara elbowed his way through the other students and his first question practically flew from his lips, "_Naze guroobu o hamemasu ka?_"

How in there world was I supposed to answer that without explaining that the gloves protect me from having a vision when I touch something?

By, of course, pretending my grasp of the language didn't extend that far.

I shook my head at the nosy kid and said, in English, "I don't think I caught that Saehara-_kun_. My Japanese isn't that good." I gave him a dazzling, ditzy smile and turned on the charm.

Did I mention that I was good actress? Not nearly theatre quality, but I've done well with what talent I've got.

Apparently stunned by my smile and female charm, Saehara hesitated too long before asking his question again. Another girl, whose name I think is Fukuda Ristsuko, had already taken up the interrogation.

It was going to be a very long day. Where the hell was my Advil?

* * *

(A.N.) Not as many reviews as I'd like, but I'm getting a decent amount of reviews on this story. So I won't complain. ... Too much. Please review!


	6. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: Still using Jedi mind powers…

Touch

Chapter 5

* * *

"_How goes the investigation, Cassandra?"_ my superior's voice squawked through the cell phone I held to my ear. It may have international service, but even a cell phone has limits, and this one had reached its. I could barely hear Agent Corvan over the static and white noise. 

"Not very well," I answered, speaking slowly and, hopefully, clearly. "It's a complete mess. I can't see what the victims never saw, and they never saw him clearly. The best I could give the sketch artist was something that closely resembles the Unabomber."

If I could've seen him, I bet he was frowning. _"Are there any leads at all?"_

"Well, not really. All I've gotten is that he, at one point, drove a gray Honda, year and model unknown. Do you realize how many of those there are in this country, by the way?" Before he could comment, I continued, "Also, he has no scent whatsoever, which would be a great identifier if we actually had a suspect. And then, there is the profile, which is also unhelpful. A male in his thirties or forties. He is probably a successful man, and meticulous. Most likely, he's some type of artist, or thinks he is. He's a rage killer, judging from the number stab wounds and the ferocity in which he executed the attack, but he still maintains the presence of mind to not leave any evidence. Although, I'm starting to doubt that. He keeps calling them 'swan'. He's not killing them because he's angry, or it's not his main reason. He wants to make them beautiful, display them. He fancies himself a great artist, and the girls are nothing but canvases." By the end of this, my voice had become analytical, detached. It's something that you gain after your first few cases, if you're lucky. You can't survive a job that forces you to face evil if you can't be detached.

Corvan sighed loud enough for me to hear, even on through the horrendous static. _"Work with what you can get, Cassandra. What about this thief? Does he look good for it?"_

"From what I can gather, he's pretty nonviolent. Flashy and arrogant maybe, but he's not the type. Besides, he's too young. I got the same impression as the profilers. Our guy is older, experienced. How's the search on VICAP going," I rattled off. Crossing my legs, I tried once again to find a comfortable spot on this bench. Why do these things always have to be so evil? The gun tucked in the back of my maroon skirt wasn't helping things either.

"_Not very well. The systems down at the moment. Some sort of bug." _Silence. _"So you have nothing?"_

"Nope. Not only do we have almost no forensics or suspects, I can't get anything off the victims that's useful. Also, I'm getting bad vibes off of the police chief here. Really bad vibes."

"_Bad vibes as in..?"_

"Bad vibes as in women's intuition, not an actual vision." Deciding that mentioning the whole thing with Hiwatari wouldn't be all that relevant, I skipped it and moved on. "And to top it all off, I'm almost out of Advil."

"_You've only been there for three days,"_ he remarked, sounding thoroughly amused.

"I'm feeling a tad stressed."

Corvan was quiet for a few moments, and then asked gravely, _"When is he due to snatch the next one?"_

A pang of panic shot through me at the thought of another girl going through what the last three victims had, and I answered, "Three days."

"_Pick up the pace, Cassandra. That's an order."_

One that I had no trouble wanting to obey. "Yes, sir. I'll report again in twenty-four hours." Corvan was the only one that I'd ever call "sir". He'd earned it.

We hung up without any further good-byes.

Weary, I stood up and shambled back to where the rest of my class was having a "picnic". Frankly, it was nerve-wracking to have to play at a normal high school student when I should be working round the clock to catch this psycho. But I have my orders. All the girls that had been killed went to schools in the area. Azumano High was the only school he hadn't hit yet. The idea was that I'd be able to spot him or something. So far, that theory was shit. But then again, we had no others.

On that train of thought, my eyes singled out Hiwatari where he leaned against a tree. He seemed, surprisingly enough, to be speaking heatedly with Niwa Daisuke. Both of them looked serious, which was very out of place with Niwa. He was, in all aspects, a happy-go-lucky kind of guy. They were as different and fire and ice. And, as far as I could tell, he was the only person that Hiwatari spoke to at school, with the exception of me.

The Harada twins, who had appointed themselves as my new friends, somehow managed to appear at my elbows with out my seeing them and they proceeded to steer me to a picnic table, which interrupted my observation time. I was careful to keep my face from betraying my panic when I looked at he younger twin, Risa. She fit the victim's profile to a T. Dark brown hair, large brown eyes, pale skin, and a delicate build.

And as bad and watchful as I felt when I looked at her, I still did not like her as a person. She's one of the very stereotypical people you'll meet. If only she had blond hair, blue eyes, and a cheerleading uniform. Not that I have anything against cheerleaders. I have great respect for anyone who can do the acrobatic and tumbling tricks that they can do, as I have difficulty pulling off even a cartwheel.

But I digress. Harada Risa was one of the most annoying people I'd ever met. As terrible as it sounds since she could be dead girl number five, I can't stand her. All she talks about are fashion and her love, the Phantom Thief Dark. I asked her why in the world she felt that a thief was good boyfriend material. Frowning, she'd answered that he was a perfect gentleman. Not to mention he was incredibly good looking.

I think this is where I'm supposed to say something like, "Ah, young love."

However, she was now chatting enthusiastically about the new exhibition we were going to see. "I can't wait to see some of the jewels!" she gushed, popping a slice of fish into her mouth.

"Oh, Risa," Riku sighed, "can't you think of anything other than jewelry?" She shook her head, but she was smiling somewhat indulgently at her twin. Looking at me, Riku continued, "I want to see the new paintings they brought in! What about you, Simon-_san_? What do you want to see?"

Restraining myself from answering harshly since I really couldn't give a damn, I said, "I'm not much of an art appreciator." Not a total lie.

"Why not, Simon-_san_?" a boy asked from behind me.

Turning, I faced Niwa Daisuke. "Art just never appealed to me." That was a lie.

Like any kid, I'd loved finger painting and such. But what I'd really loved was sculpture. Finding something new in a chunk of stone had always been attractive to me. And the sound of a chisel chipping away at rock has a soothing quality. I'd quit doing it shortly after I'd joined the Bureau. I had no talent, and it seemed childish to hang on to it after being told again and again that I was doing "adult work" and therefore had to act like an adult.

"Do you like art, Niwa-_kun_?" I inquired, working really hard at seeming "normal".

"You bet!" he responded.

"And he's a really good artist!" Riku jumped in affectionately, hugging his arm and smiling brightly.

Daisuke blushed and mumbled something incomprehensible. He was a sweet guy, not to mention a tad shy. He and Riku, I'd found out, were quite the couple. Like everyone else, I thought they were perfect for each other.

At that moment, the teacher, Yamada-_sensei_, called everyone over and we were ushered onward to the art museum.

The museum was a large white stone building. Roman pillars and wide stairs decorated the otherwise plain décor of the structure, and it was further draped in a variety of banners that I assumed were advertising their latest acquisition. A new collection of works from Europe and Africa. Some of which was supposed to be very old and very beautiful.

Inside, we were divided into ten person groups by Yamada-_sensei_, and then were given leave to wander about as we please, just as long as we "behaved like mature young people". Isn't that an oxymoron? Or is it a paradox? Hm…

The Harada twins, Niwa, Saehara, Hiwatari and four others were in my group. Oh joy.

Slowly, we made our way through each exhibit, pausing to write notes in our notebooks like good little students. And, eventually, we entered into the new exhibition wing. After a quick, though confusing, conversation between the ten of us, we split up and I immediately went in the opposite direction as the rest of them.

A hand caught my leather clad elbow, and I stiffened instinctively. Whirling, I found Daisuke looking at me curiously. "Why don't you come with us, Simon-_san_?"

Discreetly removing my arm from his grasp, I answered, "I'm a solitary kind of girl, Niwa-_kun_. I'd rather go alone." I smiled at him for good measure. He was just trying to be nice.

Daisuke looked at me a minute more and then smiled back. "Are you sure?"

"_Hai_," I assented.

"Then I guess we'll see you in an hour." With that, he made his way back to Riku's side as she gazed in awe a beautiful painting. I think it might have been a Rembrandt, but I wasn't sure.

Some wild looking tribal masks from Africa caught my eye, so I headed towards them, but I was stopped short as I made a turn around a glass display case.

The most magnificent statue I'd ever seen was positioned against the wall. A man wearing a warrior's jerkin and holding a long dagger standing in a relaxed position. It was clearly sculpted by a master of the art. The lines created by the musculature and bone structure were clean and elegant, but still preserved the masculinity of the subject. Very strong featured countenance with a hint of delicacy. Detailing down to the fingernails, it was incredibly lifelike. But what really struck me was the expression. Smugness. This knife wielding man was pleased with himself. Another version of the Mona Lisa's smile. But there was also a distinct feeling of coldness to it.

Tempted to touch it, I absently tugged at my gloves and had to stop myself from taking them off completely. There was just a compulsion to touch it. I wanted to feel the texture of the stone under my fingers, see if it was as smooth and perfect as it looked.

"Fascinating, isn't he?" Hiwatari inquired dryly, causing me to jump. I hadn't noticed him sneaking up.

"Incredibly." My hands itched to touch it. "Who did it?"

He was quiet for a moment. "No one knows. The collector who donated it doesn't have any records to how his family acquired it." There was a slight softness in his eyes and voice that was almost undetectable.

"How strange," I muttered, edging closer. "He's beautiful. It's too bad there's no artist to credit." I leaned forward and inspected the statue again. My hands still itched, and my head was starting to pound uncomfortably. "The artist must have been a woman, you know."

An eyebrow quirked up. "Why's that?"

"Very few men, and I literally mean one in ten million when I say 'few', would put such a touch of fragility in the countenance of an otherwise completely masculine warrior. A man would rather go for the more macho route. That or the artist, male or female, was young enough to recognize vulnerability and include it. Though they also included a certain degree of coldness to him." My head was really starting to hurt…

With a sigh, I backed away and slung my bag off my shoulder, digging through its contents till I found my bottle of Advil. Fishing two capsules from the container, I swallowed them dry one at a time. There were six pills left.

"Headache?" he questioned.

"It happens a lot," I informed him, tucking the practically empty bottle back into my pack. "Speaking of pain, how's your back?"

"Fine." He shifted his shoulders uncomfortably, clearly not accustomed to having people ask about his well-being.

"You ever going to tell me who he is?"

He knew I wasn't talking about the sculpture. "Why is it so important that you know?" he asked, voice harsh but quiet.

"Because it feels important. My gut tells me it's important. And I've learned over the few years I've been at this to listen to my gut. My intuition is second only to my ability to see. It's helped in a number of…situations," I answered truthfully. Why lie to him?

"No. I'm not going to tell you."

Thought not. "Then I'll change the subject. How are those rookies coming along with compiling a list of each victim's movements in the week before they were snatched?"

"They're working on it," he said, eyes still focused on the stone man. "Kudo said that he and Hatagami would have the lists by tonight for you to cross-reference. I assume you'll insist on visiting each relevant site?"

"I always do." I contemplated whether taking two more Advil was wise. "I'm also going to poke around where each of them was abducted from. I might pick up something there."

Hiwatari faced me, expression impassive. Noticing the dark circle under his eyes, I wondered if anyone was getting more than three hours of sleep these days. I know I wasn't. "Do you think it'll help?" he asked. There was a thread of strain his voice, of doubt. I doubted too. My visions were usually more helpful than this.

Who was this son of bitch?

"I honestly don't know. Every time I have some sort of expectation in a case like this, I find myself sorely disappointed, so I try not to expect much. It saves a great deal of emotional energy that way." I looked him in the eye when I said it. Not knowing why it was so important to do so; I was trying to ease the transition from thief-catching to psycho-hunting. Or maybe I just liked his eyes. I'm pretty sure I'm shallow enough for that to be a reason. Hiwatari, despite his prickly attitude and "aura", has terrific eyes.

Of course, I am being completely objective in my observation.

…Alright, I'm being _mostly_ objective. So sue me.

"Hey, Hiwatari, since we're stuck here for forty-five more minutes, why don't you come with me and check out some of the paintings? I think one of them is a Rembrandt," I invited, walking away.

After some hesitation, he followed me.

I don't have to be a solitaire all the time, do I?

* * *

I paced around the squad room restlessly, fuming. Where the hell was he? He was late! Hiwatari had told me that he would be here, in this room, at eight o'clock. Well, it's nine-thirty and he's not here! He'd left a message with Yamakawa that he'd be late, and that was it. No explanation, no nothing. 

"Yamakawa!" I barked, clenching my fists. This was important, damn it! People were dead!

"Uh…" He seemed unnerved by my raging. With clear reluctance, he asked, "What can I do for you, _Tantei_?"

"Find Hiwatari so I can kick his ass across the Orient," I growled, trying my best to do the visualization exercise my shrink had recommended for anger and stress management. Lack of sleep affected my concentration however, so the results weren't very calming.

And to add to my irritation, I was still dressed in my ridiculous school uniform. I hadn't headed back to the B&B after school, instead, I had come straight and I've been working since then. There were so many reasons to hate this outfit… Let's see, I avoid skirts as a rule since they get in the way all the time, and I looked absolutely silly in the sailor suit rip-off. Maroon is one of my least favorite colors. I'm even wearing knee socks.

I _never_ wear knee socks.

"_Tantei_?" Yamakawa inquired tentatively, sidling up cautiously. I must have been looking very scary for him to be treading so lightly. Or maybe he was also a hater of sailor suit rip-offs. "The Commander got called by Inspector Saehara for an emergency. Dark's warning letter was discovered just two hours ago and they've been trying to set up more security."

How. Dare. They.

With deliberately angry and forceful motions, I left the squad room, pausing only to grab the keys to Yamakawa's police cruiser. Said officer followed me carefully, probably trying to avoid being collateral damage when I snapped. "Yamakawa, where is he?"

"The art museum. Can I ask why you took my keys?"

"_Arigatoo_." I didn't bother to answer his question. Why else would I have them?

Exiting police headquarters, I breezed passed two other officers who were presumably on break. One of them had a cigarette dangling out of the corner of his mouth and was in his fifties. The other was probably thirty-ish and was nursing a cup of black coffee.

Getting into the car, Yamakawa finally spoke up. "It's against regulations for you to be driving my car, _Tantei_. I'm afraid I'll have to ask you to get out of the driver's seat."

I didn't care, and told him as much in response. Starting the engine and locking the doors, I began to pull out of the lot. I heard Yamakawa ask the two officers by the doors to follow me to the museum or something else that was vaguely useful.

I didn't catch the men's replies but I expect they sounded something like, "Sorry, kiddo, I'm on break."

The last thing I heard was Yamakawa calling after me, "Do you even have a driver's license!"

Why sweat the small stuff?

Twenty minutes, three almost accidents, and about a hundred close heart-attacks later, I reached the crowd surrounded museum and was vowing that I wasn't going to touch the wheel of another vehicle without some severe driver's ed courses. Who would've thought that driving was so hard?

The crowd was all swooning women, curious and admiring men, fascinated children, and scoop-hungry press. People were giggling, talking rapidly, and whispering amongst themselves. The overall effect was a cacophony of noise that was accelerating the rate of the new headache beginning behind my eyes.

Pushing and shoving my way through the mass of humanity, I finally was able to struggle to where some officers were holding back the crowd with words and barriers. I flashed my badge and ID tag, and got instant access to the scene.

I wasn't past the thresh hold of the barricade when I heard people screaming "Dark!" and "There he is!" and "The Phantom Thief is here!" Numerous fingers were jabbed skyward and I followed with my eyes.

Shock rippled through me as I watched Dark Mousy, the Phantom Thief, actually fly in, wings spread wide to ride the air currents. I thought that was just gossip… A fairytale…

Guess not.


	7. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: My Jedi powers have short-circuited…

Touch

Chapter 6

* * *

Who would've thought that he actually had wings? I mean, come on, you don't see that everyday. Then again, being post-cognitive isn't that common either. Oh well, to each his own, I guess. 

Some badge-flashing and some glaring got me directed to the make-shift command center where I found a Lieutenant who would give me some more information. Apparently, Dark had announced his target, Lucifer's Collar, but the warning letter had gotten lost in the channels of bureaucracy of the department. This is why I hate paper-pushers; they always make things harder for the rest of us who are doing the dirty work.

Bastards.

The Lieutenant handed me a photograph of Lucifer's Collar. Beautiful dark red rubies were inlaid in a thick, heavy gold chain worked into a series of complicated Celtic looking knots lying on a black velvet display cushion. A little to gaudy to wear for my taste, but absolutely gorgeous to look at. "How much is it worth?" I inquired as I handed the man back the picture.

"No idea, but I'm betting more than my house and my car combined. It'd probably pay for both my kids' college educations," he responded, tucking it into a manila folder.

"What's your name, Lieutenant?"

"Ito Yutaka _desu_, _Tantei_." He bowed politely.

"Cassandra Simon," I said, returning the bow. I wasn't even going to try and switch my first and last name around; it sounded ridiculous when I did. Western names just don't flow that way like Japanese ones do. "Now, Lieutenant Ito, where can I find Commander Hiwatari?"

Leading me over to the surveillance monitors, he invited me to take a look at the screens. "He's somewhere in there."

Great. Just great.

"Give me Dark's file," I ordered.

Ito slapped a folder into my outstretched hand, and leafed through it, gleaning information. A list of what's he's stolen… No, that's not what I need to know.

Description… Well, that's pretty useless since I've already seen him.

Ah hah! Eureka. Previous methods of escape.

I quickly read through the first couple paragraphs then snapped the file shut. Taking off at a run, I bolted into an alley between the two nearest buildings and climbed up the rickety fire escape of one of the apartment buildings. The other officers watched me go curiously, but stayed at their posts. At least they were obedient.

Once on the roof, I would be able to scan the skyline carefully. All I had to do was find Dark, and I was betting that Hiwatari wouldn't be far behind. That guy did seem to have an unhealthy obsession with catching this thief. The file had told me that Dark usually escaped by air, or by climbing over roof tops.

The wrought iron framework of the fire escape shook unsteadily as I continued to climb. My legs were starting to burn, damn it. There! The top! I made it to the top landing and realized that I wasn't going to get to the roof unless I broke into the apartment whose landing I was on, or by climbing up that rather unsafe looking ladder by the window that was about two feet away. "Mother fucking son of a bitch!" I grumbled. I certainly wasn't going to disturb some poor family by shattering their window, so I had to try to get to that ladder.

I'll have to jump for it.

Balancing shakily on the guardrail of the balcony, I willed myself not to look down. Come on, Cassie, focus. Don't look down. You're only a couple feet above ground. No problem… Nothing to worry about…

I leaped for the ladder.

With and almighty slam, I latched on to the ladder with both hands and prayed to God that I didn't fall. I squeezed my eyes shut and tried to steady my breathing. My body was soaked in a cold sweat, my head felt like it was about to split open.

Jesus, I was scared.

Up. Don't look down. Go up.

My body didn't obey.

Up!

One rung at a time, I climbed up the ladder, eyes firmly fixed on the sky above, and I eventually made it to the roof of the apartment building. I was shaking. Violently. Nothing like daring your greatest fear to stop you.

Yeah. Right. More like I am never doing something so stupid again.

The buildings all around me were all about the same height and were reasonably close together. Urban development in its finest.

All I cared about was that it was a flat roof, not slanted. I did not want to see the ground right now.

"Come on, Phantom Thief, lead that jerk to me," I muttered anxiously. My foot started to tap, and now that my sweat was cooling, I realized that I was chilled. Especially my legs. Damn knee socks didn't do anything for warmth.

There.

A figure had taken to the sky, soaring confidently on shadowy wings.

Pulling my Berretta from the custom holster that kept it tucked in the back of my skirt, I clicked off the safety and chambered a round, then darted behind some sort of duct opening for cover. He would fly right over me.

"Come on, Dark," I whispered, "come just a little bit closer…"

Almost within range…

Now!

Holding my weapon in a two-handed grip, I fired two warning shots close enough to graze his feathers. "F.B.I!" I shouted. "Land here, Dark, or I'll shoot you out of the sky!"

The thief looked down at me, clearly shocked to find me pointing a gun at him. I'm betting it was this stupid uniform. "Sorry, babe, but I've got places to be!" he called back, swerving in a graceful arc.

He did _not_ just call me "babe".

I squeezed off three more rounds. "One more chance, Dark! Land and you won't get hurt!"

He ignored me, avoiding the trio of bullets.

Taking a deep breath, I sighted up my arm and concentrated. I was barely aware of pulling the trigger. Hit the mark.

Jerking as the bullet passed through his shoulder, Dark dipped in the air, but didn't fall.

Another shot, this time aimed at the flight feathers of his wings. Clip those and he's grounded. Sure enough, he yelped and plummeted downward, just managing to save the landing. His wings were writhing, almost as if separate from the rest of him, and then they disappeared suddenly and I could've sworn I saw a small animal make a quick escape into the shadows.

… Now _that's_ unusual.

Inching closer, I commanded, "Get down on the ground." With my gun pointed in his face, he wisely decided to obey. "Hands on your head." Dark complied. "Don't move."

"Do we really have to go through this tired routine?" the purple-haired youth drawled. "You could at least be original."

"Shut up. I don't really care about catching you. I just want to use you—"

"For my body?" he joked.

I continued as though I hadn't heard him, "—to find Hiwatari. He'll undoubtedly follow you, and I've been trying to find him." As I talked, I undid the knot of the scarf of my uniform. Since I had no handcuffs handy as they would have been way too hard to explain, I'll make due with binding Dark's wrists with it instead.

The knot gave, and a bullet dropped out of the folds of the cloth. My extra, just in case. Unfortunately, I had to hide it in a rather inconvenient place. Oh well, can't have everything in life.

Just as well. I didn't want to have to touch him either.

I approached him with my gun still trained on the back of his head. Placing my foot in the center of his spine, I knelt down, holstered my weapon, and bound his wrists tightly with the ribbon, tying it into strong sailor's knots.

"So you like it comfortable, huh?" Dark murmured slyly.

I pulled the knot tighter. "You talk too much. Keep it up and I'll have to shut you up."

If only the other American agents could see this. I think I'm violating at least one or two Constitutional rights. Oh well. Shit happens.

"Go ahead. I like it rough," the thief replied.

"Maybe I _will_ gag you." I kicked him over onto his back a little harder than I probably needed, because I don't think people make that sound when they're comfortable. I really wished that had my combat boots right now, not these damn Mary-Janes.

"You know, I'm really happy that that you're wearing Mary-Janes and not combat boots, or something," Dark commented.

My eyebrows shot up. He couldn't have…. Could he? No, of course not.

Then again…

No.

Purple eyes looked at me oddly. "What?"

How to say it… "Nothing. Now, what the hell happened to your wings?" I demanded. I'm sure that I didn't see what I thought I saw.

A shrug. "Beats me. But, when I find a certain fuzzy animal…" The rest of his response was lost in rage filled mumbling.

"I think someone needs a psych eval…" I remarked, afraid for his sanity.

Dark glared at me. "If _anyone_ needs a shrink, it's_ him_," he growled, nodding pointedly over my shoulder.

"Him? Who is this 'him' you speak of?"

"Me," another man's voice answered dryly.

Squeaking in surprise, I spun around, reflexively drawing my gun. In the back of my mind, recognition sparked. Somehow, I knew this voice. I did not, however, know the guy who owned it. That I was sure of.

Tall, blond, and fair, he was arrogantly handsome. Actually, he and Dark seemed to have similar bone structure and facial features. Sort of like brothers, or cousins. Gold eyes flicked over Dark and me contemptuously.

Oh, and he had pure white wings sprouting from his back.

Being the intelligent and controlled being that I am, I said the first thing that jumped to my mind. "How many more of you freaks are there?"

"I resent that!" Dark protested, twisting his wrists in an attempt to loosen my knots.

The blond glared at me, but spoke to the thief instead of me. "You got caught by _this_?" he asked, indicating to me. Then he noticed my scarf. "And tied up with a _bow_?"

"Yeah. Makes you feel bad, huh Krad? You've been trying forever to catch me, and instead, I get caught by a school girl. Wow. Good job."

"Ah, hello? School girl with GUN," I reminded both of them. I paused for a moment then Dark's words hit me. "Wait a minute… He called you Krad, right?"

"Yeah, that's what I called him. Although, I could think of some other names. For example, evil ba—" His words turned into a groan as I kicked him, hard, in the side.

"Thank you for answering, Dark. Now please be quiet," I said reasonably. Continuing, I turned to face the blond man again. "I have a couple questions for you. First of all, what's your connection to a boy named Hiwatari Satoshi?"

A small amused, evil smirk answered me. "Guess."

Contemplating the wisdom of, just once, throwing out all my discipline and protocol to shoot him, I glared back. "Don't be cute. I asked you a question," I raised my Berretta and aimed carefully, "and you will be courteous enough to answer it." My voice didn't even sound like I was acting, thank God. I wasn't really going to shoot him for being a jackass. If I did stuff like that, then no one would be living on this planet. Not to mention that Corvan would have my ass.

Krad watched me with a dismissive air. "You won't shoot me, girl. Police are not as callous as you try to make me believe."

Shit. So much for my acting.

"What makes you say that? After all, I shot your friend here," I bluffed, nodding to my right at Dark.

"We are _not_ friends," the thief hissed.

Toying with a white feather retrieved from his coat, Krad laughed. "And I do thank you for that, girl. You have no idea how amusing seeing Dark incapacitated by a little girl like you is."

I bristled at the "little" comment. I was nearly five foot six, thank you very much. Completely average for an American woman.

"But now, you are simply in the way." The man stopped twirling the feather and smiled, gold eyes glinting malevolently.

"Am I supposed to be afraid now?" I asked, playing at bravado. All right, not really playing. What was he going to do? Attack me with the stupid feather? I made sure that my stance projected aggression and offense. You need to be able to speak with your body as well as your mouth to be convincing.

Golden light crackled around the feather, casting an eerie glow over the immediate area. Wings flaring, Krad held it in front of his body, pointing it at Dark and smiling with what I thought was satisfaction. Without hesitation, I stepped between them. "Drop it," I ordered. What the hell kind of feather glows?

The light burst forward, and I fired my last round. The bullet was eaten and swallowed by the golden stream and I quickly chambered my spare but ended up dropping my gun as I was blinded by the brightness in favor of shielding my eyes. It must be some sort of flash bomb. Nothing to worry about except temporary spotted vision. At least that's what I'd thought until I heard Dark's urgent warning to get out of the way that came too late.

I felt it strike my body like a tangible force, not light. Feeling dozens of sharp pains dance over my body, I also smelled smoke and had to yank off my red hot glove from my right hand. Slowly, the light dissipated and I couldn't see Krad anywhere. I checked the air. Nothing. The bastard was gone, as if he'd never been here. The world was swimming a little bit before my eyes, and I knew I would be sore tomorrow morning. I could feel rivulets of blood sliding down my side and legs. Looking down at my hands, I carefully inspected the reddened skin. They were first-degree burns, slightly more severe than bad sunburn. Nothing to worry about.

"You should have moved," a voice commented in annoyance. "I told you so."

I turned slightly. "Dark, I may have shot you and tied you up, but I wasn't about to let some freaky laser beam hit you. I do possess a conscious, you know. Unlike some people," I added darkly under my breath.

The purple-haired thief shook his head, holding something out for me.

…Holding something out?

"How in the world," I began, but was cut off by a mischievous grin.

"I am," he boasted, passing me my folded up scarf, "the best thief that has ever lived."

"And so you stayed tied up… Why?"

Shrugging, he answered, "I was bored. Besides, it was pretty funny to see that you actually thought a _bow_ could keep me restrained. Oh, and one more thing."

"It's a scarf, moron, and what is it?" I growled, searching anxiously for my Berretta. I walked away from Dark, looking for the damn thing.

"You have cute underwear. For a cop that is."

When I find my gun, I think I'll shot him again.

I whirled around to share this, but had to stop as the world tilted in an unpleasant way. The ground no longer feeling solid under my feet, I lost my balance and felt a warm hand clamp onto my right arm to steady me.

My _ungloved_ hand.

"No!" I yelled. This was bad. Very bad. "Let go, you idiot! Let—"

**She was doing it. Again. **

**I _hate_ it when she does this.**

"**Mom," I whined, "couldn't you have asked me first? I have tests tomorrow! I can't go out to steal stuff tonight! I have study!" And I was sick of turning into Dark all the time to steal stuff. And fighting with Hiwatari.**

"**Oh, Dai don't worry so much. You'll do fine. Now, stay here while I go get what you'll be wearing tonight." She smiled at me warmly before exiting the room.**

**Grandpa stood from the couch, cup of tea gripped firmly in his bony hand, and looked down at the warning letter Mom had just finished writing. "You know," he commented, "I never minded going out and being a thief. It was exhilarating."**

"**I know." He'd told me every single one of his experiences in detail. At least three times.**

**Walking over to collect the note so that I could go and send it, I looked in the mirror above the desk. I saw my reflection, and I saw Dark's. He popped up like that every now and then.**

"**_So," _Dark said, _"what are we going to nick this time?"_**

"_Tantei?" _Someone shook my shoulder tentatively. _"Dou deshita ka?"_ More careful shaking.

Cracking my eyes open, I glared wearily at Yamakawa. "Don't touch me," I managed to rasp out. My mind was reeling.

And it was throbbing.

As he drew from me, I said to him, "Yamakawa?"

"_Nani wa?"_

"Advil _ga arimasu ka?"_

The officer shook his head slowly. "_Iie._"

Great. Not only had I not found Hiwatari and had a vision that had suggested that one of my classmates was…somehow…related to the Phantom Thief's heists (Alright, more like it had suggested that he _transformed_ into Dark, but I was ignoring that tiny fact since that is, of course, impossible), but I also had no painkillers to treat the agony that was threatening to split my skull in two.

Oh, and I had just wasted time I could have spent trying to find the killer. That was high on my Bad Things That Have Happened Today list.

That list was miles long by now.

* * *

(A.N.) Thanks for reading and please review! 


	8. Chapter 7

Disclaimer: The Dark Side is calling to me…

Touch

Chapter 7

(A.N.) Thanks to everyone who has been reading, and to those few of you who have been reviewing. Now read! And enjoy!

* * *

I was not a happy person. 

But since when is that news?

The bus hit another pothole and everyone bounced in their seats. A few people groaned when their neighbor's backpack collapsed on top of them, or when their drink spilled over. There were only supposed to be two students to a seat but, of course, this was completely ignored. To escape such close quarters, I had seated myself in the aisle, arms wrapped around my knees.

What am I doing on a bus, you ask? Don't I have a job to do?

Yeah. I do. You now understand why I was less than chipper. I swear that these people have more field trips than is decent, or at the very least needed.

We were going on some type of mountain hiking/nature observing expedition that I found incredibly frustrating since I, first of all, had more important things to do and would have been doing those more important things if Corvan hadn't told me to heed Chief Hiwatari's orders concerning my cover. And, as I'm sure I've protested and whined multiple times to many people, I think that Chief Hiwatari is an incompetent ass.

Secondly, I was being forced to play—

"I spy with my little eye something…white," Saehara proclaimed, smiling broadly. Half the stuff on the bus was white. Hell, the _bus_ was white.

Protests similar to my own were raised and Saehara just smiled triumphantly, saying, "You'll never guess!"

As people began calling out answer after answer, I shifted my attention to the two enigmas of my class, Hiwatari and Niwa. Most people would disagree that Niwa was mysterious, but after my vision, I knew that he was clearly not what he seemed. He was more than a slightly clumsy, cheerful, and optimistic fifteen-year-old. Niwa had a connection, a deep connection, to the Phantom Thief Dark. I just couldn't put together an explanation that made sense. Yet.

They were sitting next to each other, but not by choice. Through all the shifting and seat swapping, they'd been sort of shoved into a convenient seat that no one was currently occupying. Then, Saehara had rounded up as many people as he could to play a rousing game of "I Spy". So now, both boys were surrounded with no way out.

Trapped. I know how they felt.

Risa, brown hair twining around her right index finger as she thought, presented another guess. "The cover of _Sensei_'s book is white," she reasoned, looking at Saehara.

The reporter wannabe smiled mischievously and shook his head. When no more guesses were shouted at him, he asked, "Do you all give up?" He glanced in my direction so quickly that, had I been less observant, I would have missed it.

Stifling a sigh, I finally decided to talk, much as I hated to draw my attention to the damn things. "My gloves, Saehara-_kun_, are white." Unfortunately. I hadn't thought to bring an extra pair of leather gloves since leather doesn't usually get damaged so easily. After my gloves had been burned last night, I'd had to wear the only other pair I had with me. They were white cotton with some decorative embroidery and elbow length. They were my sleeping gloves, and I usually didn't care about them since no one saw them but me. However, now I was forced to wear them until I could find some long leather gloves. I hope that I don't have to go into an "Adult Toy Store" again to find a pair. You have no idea how embarrassing that was. If only they sold the damn things at a normal, everyday store.

"You got it!" Saehara exclaimed, looking slightly disappointed. I think he wanted to keep torturing us with such obscure clues.

"Yeah…" I muttered, less than ecstatic.

"Well, it's your turn," Riku grumbled. I think that she was in complete agreement with my sentiments.

I sighed again. Well, if I was going to do this, might as well get something good out of it. "_Anoo_… I spy with my little eye…two people," I glanced pointedly at Hiwatari and Niwa, "who are not what they seem."

Dancing inside with glee, I watched as their spines stiffened and they both watched me warily. Ha! I knew it. I knew that would get a rise out of them. I watched them carefully as everyone tried to figure out my ambiguous clue. Shifting nervously, Niwa glanced at Hiwatari and then back at me and then down at his lap. On the other hand, Hiwatari just glowered at me, expression unreadable. Opposites, the two of them. Opposite reactions.

Bored, I pulled out a notebook and flipped it open, shielding its contents with my arms. In side-by-side columns, I'd listed Dark and Krad's names, and anything I could think about that related to each of them, trying to organize my thoughts. In a third column, I had listed all the points of the killer's profile. For what felt like the hundredth time, I scanned the columns, trying to match up any similarities.

Dark. A thief. Would leave no evidence.

Killer?

No. Non violent. And he gives warning _before_ the crime. The killer sends taunting letters _after_ he takes them.

Krad. Unknown affiliation. Prideful. Arrogant. May have grudge against Dark.

Why?

Krad probably wasn't the killer anymore than Dark was. Or was he?

No. He hadn't felt right. My gut said so.

My gaze zeroed in on their names anyway. Dark. Krad.

…

Wait a minute.

I wrote the name 'Dark' out on the next page of the notebook, and then, directly under it, I spelled it out backwards, getting 'Krad'.

"I've got it!"

I'm not sure what I've got.

"Simon-_san_, I know what your clue means!" the same girl exclaimed happily, pleased with herself.

I wish I knew what it all meant.

I forced myself to look up at the girl, and to not snap the notebook shut immediately. "And what does it mean?" I couldn't remember her name.

"It's the Haradas!" she proclaimed, "If they tried, they could trade places! They could switch and then they wouldn't be what the seemed!"

Smiling, laughing at her secretly, I congratulated her on figuring it out. Somehow, I think that pointing out that I had meant Hiwatari and Niwa would be too hard to explain. Isn't that always the way of things?

I continued to watch both of them, and I know that they were aware of it. Trying to piece it all together was complex, hard. Pain started to gather behind my eyes as I thought, but I put off taking an Advil. Focusing on the facts were too important, needed my full attention. It was like trying to piece together a jigsaw puzzle, except I couldn't figure out how to make the cardboard fragments to create the big picture.

Finally breaking up, the "I Spy" group went on their separate ways, squeezing into different seats to engage in conversation, or listen to music, or watch a DVD on a portable player. I was able to claim a seat for myself across from Hiwatari and Niwa's seat, and I made no secret that I was watching them, waiting. I was always waiting. Sometimes it was all you could do.

Niwa broke first. "Simon-_san_…" the red-head said quietly, quietly enough that I had to lean forward in the aisle to hear him, "Why are you..?"

"I know something is happening here," I replied, "Niwa-_kun_, you, and you as well Hiwatari, are hiding something. I'm trying to figure out if it has anything to do with something incredibly important." I couldn't divulge any information, as much as I wanted to, I couldn't. "I don't know how it all fits together, but I'm afraid I need to. I have to make sure…" I have to make sure you're not a killer. I have to make sure that the person you are connected to isn't a killer.

Hiwatari knew what I meant, knew that I was trying very hard to rule out Dark as our murderer. There wasn't that much time left.

Opening his mouth, Niwa looked ready to answer, but the bus rolled to a stop and we were all ordered off by the severe looking teacher. Looking relieved, the red-head bolted from his seat, dug out his backpack, and scrambled off the bus.

"He almost cracked, didn't he?" I asked the boy seated opposite me.

Nod.

"What would you have done if he did?"

Hiwatari gave me no answer, no sign of what he was thinking. Instead, he followed the rest of the students into the bright April sunshine.

They both thought they had been saved by the bell, so to speak, but I wasn't going to give up so easily. I was on the same hiking team with Niwa, along with the Haradas. Slinging my bag onto my shoulder, I exited the bus and joined the large group of waiting teens and found my group with ease. Niwa looked a little uncomfortable, probably remember that I had almost gotten something out of him, had almost gotten a step closer to whatever secret he kept close to him. Almost. Frankly, I think he was scared at how close he had come.

We were given maps of the trails and were told to be back in four hours, and off we went.

The wind blew gently, rustling leaves and birds chirped quietly from their perches. Due to the heavy rain that had fallen early this morning, the trail was soft and our footprints were deep and clear in the soil.

Chatting with no real purpose or direction to the conversation, my group walked up and up, stopping now and then to pick a leaf or flower that we were supposed to collect for our science journals. Stopping to rest, we sat down among a formation of gray stones that were weathered and fissured with time and the elements. "Strange, really," I found myself saying to Niwa as we watched the two sisters disappear in search of the creek marked on our map that Risa wanted to dip her feet into.

"What's strange?" the boy asked, startled by my suddenness.

"How constant nature can be, even as it is unpredictable. Sort of like people." My fingers traced a crack in the stone. "Here one minute and gone the next, but lingering around those of us still here, close enough to touch if only we knew how."

"Is that why you carry a gun, Simon-_san_? To keep from being gone in the next instant?" Niwa asked, looking at me with the wide eyes of someone who had never truly seen death or the ugliness of the human heart.

"You know why I carry a gun, Niwa," I replied, dropping the honorific on his name, "I don't know how you know, but you do."

He was quiet for a while, watching for the twins' return. "You're really from the F.B.I.?"

"Yes. Do you know why I'm here in Japan, here in your town?"

"To capture Dark?"

I laughed wearily. A cloud passed in front of the sun, and the world became darker, cooler, and the forest around us seemed slightly more ominous as the shadows deepened. "Nothing so simple, Niwa. Nothing so…clean."

Exuberant giggles broke the ensuing silence as the twins moved towards us. Risa was completely soaked and I guessed that she'd not only found the creek, but she'd also fallen in. Riku was trying to contain her amusement, failing miserably. Niwa smiled at the brightly, once again the cheerful and slightly dopey boy-next-door.

Before the girls were in ear shot, I asked Niwa for a favor. "Ask Dark to keep his ear to the ground for anything strange going on, and keep his eyes wide open. I don't know how or why you know him, but pass the message along for me." I watched Risa smile reluctantly as Riku cracked a joke about her sister's sodden state. "It's important."

I wanted to add that lives were at stake. I wanted to add that people needed to be protected. But Riku had already reached us, dragging Risa behind her, and I knew that I'd broken enough rules for the day.

* * *

He watched them. Searching. Waiting. Waiting for the right one. The right canvas. Art was his passion, his calling, his addiction. But not with paints or oils or clay or stone. No, his art was of the flesh. Death was such a pretty affair, done the right way. It made a statement. Something that couldn't be ignored. The ultimate cry for recognition. 

However, no matter how beautiful he made them, no matter how beautifully they were crafted, no one noticed. They shunned him. Called him a monster. Just like before. Ridiculed him, sealed him away in an out of the way corner, out of sight and out of mind. But he was still in control. Always was. Always will he create his art. Art was all he had. The only thing that had never rejected him. Never called him a monster.

He wasn't a monster, he told himself sternly. He was an artist.

And an artist had to do what he must to create beauty. Perfection.

_There_. That one. He watched the slender girl walk passed him, a curious air about her as she spoke with her black-haired friend. Her eyes were a liquid brown, darker than all the others' eyes, almost black and she was small. She was even the right age. _Perfect_.

The perfect canvas. A beautiful swan, just waiting for his attention. He would immortalize her in his work. Her blood would be the paint, his knife the brush, her body the paper.

But not yet. No, not yet. For it to be perfect, he must follow the cycle. The cycle _they_ had put him through.

Still… He wished he could touch her. He wished he could feel her creamy skin. That other girl had wanted to touch him. But she had not been a good canvas. Her eyes too bright, her hair too light, her body too tall. _Imperfect_.

So he had let her go.

But one of _them_ had been with her. _Betrayer_._ Traitor_._ Dirty blood_. More than ever he would show them that he was as good as them. No. Better. He was a better artist. Art was his and his alone.

The swan ran a delicate hand through her short tresses.

_Addiction_.

* * *

(A.N.) Okay, so I'm sorry about the delay. I had a bad case of writer's block.Not fun. So, anyway, please review and tell me what you think. Ask questions, critisize, anything you want! ... Well, not anything, but you get the picture, yeah? Just review! 


	9. Chapter 8

Disclaimer: May the Force be with you.

Touch

Chapter 8

(A.N.) A special thanks to all my reviewers! Love! sends cyber cookies to all of them And a really big thank you to my beta-reader, Whit-chan, aka Serpent of Slytherin. She's a good writer. Read her stories! They have Draco in them! giggles like the fangirl that I am. ... Sorry, I'm a tad hyper right now. Anyway, enjoy the story!

* * *

The wind was so lonely sounding, weaving through the trees and rustling the leaves and making the old swing creak eerily. Back and forth, then back again, as if Izumi was still swinging in it and writing in her worn leather journal. The sky was getting darker by the second as the sun sank lower and lower in the west. Twilight changed the perception of the secluded backyard, making it grey and shadowy.

Officers combed the area carefully, while others set up the large floodlights that would soon dispel all the darkness that crept up around us. A grid had been planned out, and now each team of men and women searched their section of the grid with meticulous care. Catching one of the chains that connected the seat of the swing to the rusty frame it hung from, I settled myself onto the hard, wide board and oversaw the work. It was reasonably quiet, a few murmurs being exchanged every now and then. Otherwise, no one spoke.

This was the last of the snatch-sites. We hadn't found anything at the last two and morale was low. Really low. Especially mine. I tended to carry all the emotional and psychological baggage that came with a case since I actually experienced it first-hand. My entire body was killing me. That hike had been way too long and had gone up way too many inclines for my legs to be happy. My right hand was itching unbearably, the burn already starting to peel. The rest of my aches, I suspect, are just the result of my skyrocketing stress levels. When it feels like you have the weight of the world riding on your shoulders in your head, your shoulders really do start to feel the physical strain. And, of course, I had a headache. But since I've had it for the better part of the day, I'll just deal with it until I get back to the Bed & Breakfast where I can take some prescription migraine medicine if I have to if it gets worse. Lately, Advil just wasn't doing the job.

My focus shifted back to the outside world. No discoveries, no revelations, and no answers waited for my attention's return. Damn, damn, double damn! What was I missing?

Hushed voiced filled the yard, floating from the temporary command post, a former surveillance van. Looking over at the white nondescript vehicle in question, I discovered that Hiwatari had shown up. Finally.

Why couldn't the guy just show up when I asked? Hm? Is it _that_ hard?

I resisted the urge to snort. It's a tad unladylike, as my grandmother would have pointed out. My mother would just tell me to suck it up and play nice.

Mom and Grandmother never really had seen eye to eye.

Turning my gaze back to the searching officers, I waited as patiently as I could for Hiwatari. I pushed myself on the swing absently with one foot, smearing more dirt and dust onto my already grimy, used-to-be-white tennis shoe.

"Find anything yet, Simon-_san_?" Hiwatari asked, leaning gingerly against the rickety metal frame of the swing.

"No. Not yet." Frowning, I scanned the area again, then closed my eyes and called to mind what I had observed in my vision. I was facing the _wrong way_. Opening my eyes, I stood up and walked to the other side of the swing and sat down facing away from the searching officers. From this point of view, I could see the dense tree line and the backyard's fence. "Hiwatari," I began, "If you wanted to sneak up from behind me, where would you start?"

Hearing his footsteps get farther away, I turned my head and watched him consider the killer's probable ingresses. He moved deliberately, calculating the possibilities as he went. I found myself halfway caught up in the almost catlike grace with which he moved.

I slid from the swing once again, and began sliding off one of my blasted white gloves. Fingers spread wide; I brought my bare right hand down until it barely brushed the tips of the grass blades. Sweeping my hand in a wide arch, I let myself feel everything. Nature doesn't provide a wide range of feelings, but there are a few.

**Contentment that the sun is shining. **

**Relief that it rained last week.**

A soft sigh escaped my lips as I felt the wind caress me, the sensation strange since I was torn between knowing that I was crouched on top of the soil while it felt as if I had roots that were also deeply embedded in the ground and soaking up the water below.

Then I felt it. A sharp feeling of calculated predatory focus. Something that didn't belong among the simpler emotions of grass and other growing things.

It was _desire. _Wanting.

Grass doesn't want a damn thing other than water and to not be stepped on by stiletto heels.

I continued to sweep my hand over the ground, following the trail of hot, complex emotions. I was barely aware of how Hiwatari followed the trail that I did and how he added them to his own calculations. Between the two of us, we followed a wide almost half-circle that led to a hole in the old wooden fence. We both stopped and looked out at the woods beyond.

"We'll need people to begin searching the woods," I said softly, slipping the glove back on over my reddened skin.

Hiwatari nodded, sapphire eyes lingering on the burn. "How did you do that?"

"I was just a regular empath before all the visions started. When I was young, I could feel what other people were feeling and, as I got older, I gained the ability to sense and experience what had happened in the past by touching something that contained strong emotional impressions. In short, I'm just highly sensitive to all types of emotions," I said as I stood up, brushing dirt off the knees of my old and worn light blue jeans. "Our killer is, as many serial killers are, driven by very primal, very strong, emotions. So strong that even a footstep leaves a clear enough signature for me to follow." I sounded tired, strained. Talking about murderers, even in a clinical sense, always leaves a bad taste in my mouth, as the saying goes.

"He must have hidden himself among the trees," Hiwatari muttered, half to himself. With a wave, he called some more searchers to us and instructed them, "Spread out and search the woods. Look for broken branches, scored bark, candy wrappers, footprints, and any other signs that a person would leave behind." The officers nodded, collected some flashlights, and then ventured out into the dark woods.

Somehow, I'm reminded, slightly, of the Blair Witch Project.

One of the officers even had a video camera.

Hiwatari grabbed a flashlight of his own, and I followed him into the trees, once again removing my right glove, then, after some hesitation, took off my left one. I tucked them into my belt. Brushing my fingers against each trunk that we past, I opened my mind and listened, felt, searching for the elusive trail that he must have left. The bark was rough and abrasive against my skin, the leaves and pines were smooth and cool.

A tingling sensation brought me to a stop, and I motioned for Hiwatari to halt as well. I walked around the tree that had retained the killer's vibrations and tried to find were it was strongest.

There.

"This way," I said, indicating with my head that we were to head left.

Dead leaves and grass crunched under out feet as we progressed, birds chirped and shrieked above us, and a faint rustling that was too isolated to be the wind disturbed the bushes, tall grasses and flowers. Darkness was rapidly engulfing the woods, the shadows deepening and becoming ominous. Using the flashlight to guide our feet, Hiwatari kept pace with me as I let myself be led by a terrible wanting.

A sharp zing of emotion raced up my arm and bounced around my head and stopped me cold. "Here," I whispered, "He watched her from here." Sure enough, you could see the backyard of Izumi's house through the branches, especially the swing from which she had been taken. Pulling my hand back, I watched as Hiwatari circled around the large trunk of the tree (an oak?) and examined the ground.

Frowning, he looked up at me and said, "No footprints. You're sure this is the right place?"

Snapping, I replied, "Of course I'm sure! I don't make the stuff up you know."

Silently nodding, he pulled out his ever present cell phone and called the people at the base camp and gave them our location. Hanging up, he said, "They'll be here as soon as the get together a processing team."

"Then I better get my task over with," I muttered, wishing I could just go home.

I reached out, and touched.

**_Canvas_. My beautiful canvas, my swan, my love returned to me. **

**She will be the one. The perfect one. The perfect one to show them how talented I am.**

**I want her, and I _will _have her. **

"Jesus!" I exclaimed softly, yanking my hand back and rubbing it fiercely.

"What is it?"

"He… He _wants_ them so badly. He _covets_. But he is also angry, angry that we haven't honored him for his work. He thinks he's an _artist_." I started shaking, feeling suddenly chilled and afraid. "He called them his _canvases_, Hiwatari. This monster doesn't even see them as people. Just things." I jammed my hands back into my white gloves forcefully, struggling to get my fingers in the right holes and shivering. My eyes darted everywhere, as if the killer would jump out at any minute. I rubbed my arms anxiously, and the spot between my shoulder blades started to itch uncontrollably.

Paranoia at it's finest.

"Let's go, Hiwatari," I said, feeling exposed, "We can leave the others to process this."

He looked at me for a few heartbeats, sapphire eyes serious and void of his thoughts. It takes a lot of practice to pull off shuttering your eyes. After all, they are the mirrors of the soul. He replied as he was turning back the way we came, "Fine. Let's go."

Neither of us spoke on the way back to the yard, nor when we sought out Yamakawa. Only after we climbed into the car did Hiwatari ask, "Can you tell me any more about him?"

"Other than the fact that he's certifiably psychotic?" I didn't wait for him to glare at me. "No. Just that he's doing this for recognition. He wants to be recognized as an artist, and he thinks that killing these girls is going to help make that happen." I leaned forward, pulling my seatbelt taut, and rested my head in my hands, rubbing my eyes. "He's not going to stop unless we stop him. No matter what he does, it'll never be enough for him. Never."

Yamakawa chose that moment to ask where we going. Hiwatari told him that we were going back to the inn to drop me off, but I objected, "I want to see one more thing before I head back."

"_Nan desu ka_?" There was a faint note of irritation in Hiwatari's voice. I think he wanted more than five hours of sleep.

Oh well. So did I, but since I knew that I wasn't going to get it even if I got back to the inn early, then I might as well do something constructive. And if I wasn't going to get more than five hours, then neither was Hiwatari. Petty of me, yes, but, then again, I've never claimed that I was the model of moral perfection.

Somehow, I've managed to live with that.

Pulling out a sheaf of papers from a briefcase sitting on the floor of the backseat, I scanned the printed words and answered, "The closest dumpsite, ironically enough, is the riverbank where Nanahara Izumi was found. I'd like to take a look around."

Yamakawa protested first and loudest, "It's already eight o'clock, _Tantei_. What in the world are you planning to find in the dark?"

Sighing, I pushed my dark copper hair away from my face and threatened, "If you don't drive, Yamakawa, then I will. And we both know how that turned the last time."

Hiwatari eyed me suspiciously. "You don't have a license."

"Nope, and that's exactly my point."

"Then why were you driving a car?"

I didn't answer him.

"Yamakawa?" Hiwatari asked, pale face very serious and police commander-like.

"_I_," the officer said sullenly, glaring at me in the rearview mirror, "had nothing to do with it. All _I _did was hold all those poor people's hands as the shock of almost getting into an accident made them hysterical."

"Which means," I interjected, wanting to jump in before he could go any farther, "that it would be safer if Yamakawa drove, yes?"

Five minutes later, we were heading west towards the dump-site. I knew they would see it my way, being logical and all that. However, Yamakawa kept muttering in Japanese under his breath, and I caught words like "_baka_" and "_onna_" (which were usually strung together), and "_kyouki_". He can call this insanity all he wants. It's not going to change a damn thing.

About a half-hour of tense silence had passed us by when Yamakawa finally announced, "This is it." The car rolled to a stop and we all clambered out, clicking on our flashlights to light up the riverbank.

The sound of running water was strangely comforting as I ducked under the police tape that was strung around the area between the thin, young trees. "Where was the body found? Exactly?"

"Over here," Hiwatari called, and I followed him to a patch of grass that was about six feet away from where the grassy ground gave way to the muddy banks of the river.

Flicking the slim beam of my torch over the ground, I turned away from the water and searched the sparse tree line for something interesting. There had to be something significant about the places where he left the bodies. "He chooses these places," I murmured to myself thoughtfully, "A harbor, a beach, a river… All water, but there has to be something more…spectacular about these places. It doesn't make any sense if there isn't."

"This man is a serial killer, Simon-_san_, nothing he does makes sense," Hiwatari commented, coming to stand next to me as I searched.

"Not necessarily," I told him, sweeping my light back and forth. A flash of gray caught my gaze, and I focused in on it and moved closer to it. It seemed like a well.

It was old looking and dilapidated, the stones falling free of crumbling mortar and overgrown with moss and ivy. Hiwatari, I noticed, was glaring at it with a slight hint of apprehension. Maybe he's seen The Ring too many times? I looked over at him and raised my eyebrows in silent question, and he gave me a suspiciously blank look.

I was betting that he wasn't a horror/creepy film lover, although he should take up poker. He would be great at bluffing.

Circling around the well, I began thinking aloud, "Maybe it wasn't the river at all. Maybe what he was leaving her by was the well."

"Why not put her closer to it, then?" Yamakawa asked.

"Because the light and the ground aren't right," Hiwatari remarked softly. When we both looked at him, he elaborated, saying, "She was found in a very…soft position. If it hadn't been for the knives and the stab wounds, the victim would have appeared to be sleeping peacefully. The ground around the well is rocky and has a coarse aesthetic. It wouldn't have been…complimentary to the image he wanted to pull off. Also, it's too dark here because of the tree cover. He would have wanted full light on her. It would be more advantageous since he wanted to do a display."

For some reason, it sounded as if he knew what he was talking about, as if he did art as a hobby or something. I realized that I didn't know much about my "partner" in this case. Perhaps he _was_ an artist. I sure as hell didn't know.

Putting that thought aside for a while, I leaned over the lip of the well, bracing my right hand against the stone, and shined my flashlight into it. I froze as the stone under my hand made a strange cracking sound.

"Simon-_san_, you should get off the rocks," Hiwatari warned, taking a step forward.

"Good id—" I stopped mid-word as the stones slid and I lost my balance. Wind-milling my arms, I tried to throw my weight backwards but it was too late, and I fell over the edge of rock into the well, screaming.

…And hit something that yelped in surprise.

Whatever it was and I hit the bottom of the well with an almighty thud, and I found my face buried in soft, dark feathers, some of which were in my mouth. Spitting them out, I sat up and looked down at the thing that had broken my potentially fatal fall.

"Could you get off me now? Usually I ask a girl on a date before I let her fall down on top of me," it said.

I punched Dark's back hard enough to leave a bruise. "Pervert," I growled, starting to stand, noticing that the ground was hard and dry. This well had been dry for a long time now.

Then something bit my hand.

Yes. Bit me. That's what I said.

I yipped in alarm and pain, yanking my hand back and cradling it against my chest. "Something bit me!"

"Simon-_san_, _dou desu ka?_" Hiwatari called down.

Glancing upward, Dark stood as well. "What do you mean 'something bit you'?"

"I mean exactly what I said." I looked down at my hand and, even in the dark, I could see blood seeping into the white cloth of the glove. Great. I've managed to damage _another_ pair of gloves. In two days. That's pretty bad, even for me. "I'm fine," I yelled back to Hiwatari, irritated.

The shadows behind him seemed to writhe for a moment, and then his wings were gone. "He _bit_ you? He can do that?" he inquired, and I had a suspected that he was laughing at me.

I opened my mouth to ask who he was talking about but, realizing that he was standing way too close to me, definitely invading my comfort zone, I changed my mind and said instead, "Move."

"And where do you suggest I go?"

"I don't care just move."

"If you insist." He moved in the dark, closer to the wall, and (I think) pushed against an individual block quite deliberately.

There was a loud rumbling sound, and I heard Hiwatari's voice again, asking what was going on, but I was too fascinated to answer as the curved wall of the well seemed to slide away to reveal a larger chamber. Grabbing my mostly undamaged flashlight from the ground, I went inside to explore. My curiosity was getting the better of me.

Not even a foot through the entryway and I heard a loud, dull thump and two males grunt on impact.

…

Now that I review that thought, it sounds wrong. Just plain wrong.

Then, I heard Dark complain loudly, "Damn it, Hiwatari, what the hell are you doing here?"

There was the unmistakable chink of cuffs locking around wrists. "Apparently, Dark, I am arresting you."

I think I need to intervene.

"Hiwatari?" I inquired, going back to the door.

"_Nani?_"

Before I got to trying to persuade him not to arrest the guy who had inadvertently saved my life, I asked, "You _jumped_?" What can I say? It slipped out.

I shined my flashlight on him in time to see him shrug. "You fell," he explained, "and you were fine. It was only logical that there was something," he looked pointedly at Dark, "that broke your fall, and would break mine."

Well, when you put it that way, it doesn't sound like a messed up attempt at suicide.

"Right," I said out loud. See? I don't say _everything_ I'm thinking. "That's great and all, but why are we arresting Dark? If you haven't noticed, he saved us both from injury and possibly death by breaking out fall."

"I'm so glad you appreciate my body," Dark muttered sarcastically. He winced as Hiwatari jerked the metal bracelets around his wrists tighter.

At least I didn't have to kick him this time. My old tennis shoes were already falling apart as it was.

"Because he is a wanted thief," Hiwatari replied.

Oh yeah. That would be a good reason. So, I switched topics. "Please tell me you told Yamakawa to go find us a ladder or a rope or something, 'cause we sure as hell aren't climbing up the walls, and since you cuffed Dark, we aren't flying either. So, unless you can sprout wings yourself, Hiwatari, we're all stuck."

I don't know what was more intriguing: Dark's mixture of amusement and surprise, or Hiwatari's shock and wariness.

"I sent Yamakawa for a ladder," Hiwatari said after a tense pause. There was a tightness in his shoulders that told me that I'd said something that had rubbed him the wrong way.

"Great. Then let's go exploring." I turned and went back into the hidden chamber.

This case was getting stranger and stranger.

Hidden chambers in wells, for example. I've seen enough horror films that tell me that the combination is not a good thing. Then there was the fact that I have seen not one, but _two_, men who have wings. Our killer was especially psychotic and didn't smell like anything. I had ruined two pairs of gloves in…what? Two days?

As I ventured farther into the room and saw the pedestal in the center, I had a feeling that it would get even weirder than that.

* * *

(A.N.) Thanks for reading and I hope you all review! Suggestions, flames, anything is accepted!


	10. Chapter 9

Disclaimer: Once again, I am using my Jedi mind powers on you all.

Touch

Chapter 9

(A.N.) Okay, so the edit thing isn't letting me add a ruler, so ignore all the random "o" things. Thanks to all who have reviewed, and to all of you that haven't, start! And a thanks goes out to Serpent of Slytherin and mistysword7. Enjoy!

oOo

From what I could see, the hidden chamber was roughly octagonal in shape and the walls were made up of irregularly formed stones held together by mortar. The floor was the same. Uneven steps led down into a basin that was filled with stagnant and moldy smelling water that came up to my knees, soaking my jeans and causing my gait to lag. The pedestal was against the back wall, set in an alcove in the wall, and was heavily stained with old water marks. The surface level of the liquid must have been higher at some point, back when the well was wet.

Hiwatari hung back, making sure that Dark didn't slip the cuffs, as I waded forward slowly, trying not to slip on the slimy rocks under my feet. My shoes were not getting any traction.

The air was thick, and it felt like I was walking through cobwebs. If I had been trying to kid myself, I would have said that it was because the room had been sealed for a long time and so the air was stale, but I knew it was because my abilities were picking up signatures left in this room. Old, faint, ugly. Whoever had been here had been one messed up or angry person. Their emotions had been so strong that, even many years later, I could feel them tingling against my skin. It was annoying.

Shining the beam of my flashlight on the pedestal, I frowned and turned back to Hiwatari, "There's nothing here."

"Nothing?"

I re-examined the top of the pillar, glad it only came up to my waist. I don't think I would have been able to balance on my tiptoes long enough to see anything on these stupid slippery rocks. "Just a small circle that's lighter than the rest of the stone. I'm pretty sure that something used to be here. A ring maybe."

"Dark." That one word was filled with a scary undertone that made me glad I hadn't pissed Hiwatari off too badly since I've been here.

Dark sounded innocent and slightly amused when he said, "Yes?"

I started to make my way back to dry ground.

"Hand it over, Dark," Hiwatari ordered firmly. "You don't know what it can do, what it is."

"Now, you see, that's where you're wrong. I _do_ know the whole story."

"Impossible."

"Well, since I know, it clearly isn't."

"You are bluffing, fishing for information. You won't get it."

Climbing up the strangely spaced steps, I glanced between the two of them as they conversed. "Is there something I should know?" I asked, not needing any psychic powers to know that there was a shit load of tension flowing between them.

They glared at each other.

I sighed. Men. Always making things difficult. It's that damn testosterone. They have way too much of the stuff. I resisted the urge to growl at them, saying, "Gentlemen? As much as your conversation is fascinating me, I would rather you not snipe at each other. _Wakarimasuka_?"

"_Wakatta_," they both responded sullenly. I guess the two of them don't like playing nice.

"Thank you. Now, Dark, do you happen to have the object that was on the pillar?"

The thief was silent for a moment, a small smile tugging at his lips. I took that as a yes.

"Where did you put it?" Hiwatari asked. He was squeezing the other man's arm painfully. At least, it looked painful from where I was standing.

A full-blown smirk in place as if Hiwatari's fingers weren't what I suspected were going to be permanent indentations in his flesh, Dark replied teasingly, "You'll just have to search me, I suppose." He was looking at me.

I eyed him apprehensively. He expected me to do it? Was he nuts? Fucking A, has the man not been paying attention? "Hiwatari, you do it."

"_Naze_?"

"Why?" he asks. Morons. Staring at both of them in disbelief, I took a giant step back and said, "Have you both lost your minds? Have you forgotten what happens when I touch people?"

Silence.

They had. _Bastards_.

I glared rusty daggers at them, sure that the message would get across without me vocalizing it.

Hiwatari started patting Dark down and Dark kept all his smart remarks to himself for a change. I was right. They'd gotten the message.

A few moments passed in all quietness, a blessed relief since my headache had decided to start pounding heavily against my temples, and, eventually, Hiwatari fished a small object out of Dark's rather tight leather pants. I pulled a handkerchief from my back pocket and held out my hand. Reluctantly, he dropped the thing into my doubly-covered hand.

It was a ring, silver and badly tarnished. The band was a simple vine-like design, the ends of which joined to hold a heart-shaped sapphire. The first thing that popped into my mind when I saw the dark blue facets of the gem was that it looked just like Hiwatari's eyes.

…

I know, I know. But I think that, unfortunately, I'm in the early stages of a crush. Don't ask me why. But I've noticed this sort of stuff happening since I met him. I'd see something, and I'd find someway to connect it to him. Sighing mentally, I wished it would all just go away. Relationships end badly for me due to the whole "I see stuff from your past" thing. Like I'm sure I've pointed out before, it unnerves people, especially men. Plus, I've learned that workplace dating is a bad idea from watching others.

Pushing all that aside, I said, "What the hell is a ring doing down here?"

Thief and police commander exchanged sidelong glances and neither of them answered my question.

"Right," I mumbled, tucking the linen square back into my pocket and fingering the ring through my gloves. It was actually very pretty, elegant. Since nothing had tingled when I touched it, it wouldn't hurt anything to slide it on over the gloves.

I barely had the silver trinket over the tip of my left ring finger when both men shouted, "Don't!"

Freezing in place, I glared at them. "And why not?"

"It would be…bad," Dark said lamely, shrugging lopsidedly.

Hiwatari added, "With your 'sensitivity', Simon-_san_, the experience would be less then pleasant." His face was dead serious.

I wonder what would happen… Oh well, I'll just wait until they're both gone, then I'll see what I can learn from it since it looks like neither of them want to explain damn thing to me. In the meantime, I pocketed the ring and said, "Now all we have to do is wait for Yamakawa and that ladder." I hoped that it wouldn't be a long wait. Wet jeans are _not_ comfortable in the least. And my shoes were squishing when I walked and shifted my weight.

Leaving Hiwatari and Dark to do whatever, I went back to the original well and leaned against the dirt covered wall to wait. As the minutes ticked by, anxiety started to build up in my chest. I'm not claustrophobic or anything, but I did not want to be stuck in this fucking hole, secret chamber or not. I could hear Dark quipping some incredibly suggestive jokes and Hiwatari's annoyed responses. At least, with the two of them here, it wasn't going to be a completely boring wait.

Dark suggested, in response to Hiwatari's refusal to unlock the cuffs, that Hiwatari do something that was physically impossible unless my "partner" had some extraordinary flexibility.

Hiwatari shot back something equally improbable for Dark to do.

And it involved a goat.

God, this was better than most TV.

Funny really, how Dark seemed to bring out the worst in the normally quiet and reserved Hiwatari Satoshi. I guess there was just something about him that rubbed the commander the wrong way. Maybe it had to do with the fact that Dark had eluded capture for so long. Being outsmarted by that lout would piss me off too.

Yamakawa's voice interrupted comedy time. "Detective Simon, Commander Hiwatari!" the officer yelled down the well in Japanese.

"_Hai_!" I hollered back.

…

That was an unintended play on words. I'm sorry. I hate rap music.

"I'm going to lower the ladder!" Yamakawa replied.

I heard the metal scraping against the stone of the well and felt a shower of dirt and decaying stone fall down on my head. Annoyed, I brushed the debris off and sighed. How do I manage to get myself into these kinds of messes? I got stuck in a manhole in my last case. Maybe I just attract holes? Hm… Something to think on.

When Hiwatari returned with Dark, we all realized that there was going to be a problem: Dark couldn't climb up the ladder with his hands behind his back. Without his wings, he was as annoyingly normal (well, sort of…) as the rest of us poor mortals. Meaning, of course, that we would have to devise a way to get the thief out of the well.

"Yamakawa, do you have rope up there, too?" I asked, hoping the answer was yes.

My hopes and prayers were answered. The man had, smartly, also acquired some rope in case there was a mishap with the ladder. Thank you God. For once, I am not completely surrounded by unprepared morons.

I requested the Hiwatari remain down here with the prisoner while I climbed up the ladder. The plan was to lower the rope, at which point Hiwatari would tie it around Dark in whatever way, and then Yamakawa and I would haul the purple-haired rogue up.

I think, to pay him back for that underwear comment when I first met him, I will make sure he hits the sides of the well. Hard.

…On his head.

And so, we did just that. From the yelps that Dark kept voicing, I was succeeding in my revenge. F.B.I. agent I may be, but I am also a fifteen year old girl, therefore I can hold a grudge for a long time _and_ be vindictive in my vengeance. It's part of the Rule Book. Yes, there is one. It's just not written. All females are born with the capacity to automatically know it, and we gain the rules slowly as we age. If only the men would learn this. You would think they would get a clue, but…

Well, we all know how assumptions like that turn out.

But, returning to the present, Dark was making hauling his heavy criminal ass up very difficult by swinging around erratically. Then, all of a sudden, I found myself flat on my butt, staring at the sky because the rope no longer hand any weight attached to Dark's end. Yamakawa was behind me, moaning and wanting to know what had just happened.

Belatedly, I heard Hiwatari yelling that Dark had slipped not only the rope, but also his cuffs.

No shit.

Dark was whistling happily as a he twirled the cuffs around one of his index fingers. "You know," the Phantom Thief commented mildly, "even with the magical seal, that was way too easy." He directed the statement to the top of Hiwatari's blue head, after which he sprinted his evil, devious self off into the night like something evil and devious.

Please tell me I didn't just think that.

Resisting the urge to sigh, I stood and brushed the dirt off my ass, wishing that I hadn't blackmailed Yamakawa into bringing us here and beginning this whole fiasco. The only good thing was that I still had the ring, and that I had a very large bottle of Advil awaiting me back at the inn.

…Somewhere.

At least I didn't have any violent visions this time around.

Praise the Lord for small mercies, I guess.

oOo

Later, I placed the ring in an almost microscopic and clear space on my desk, and I stared at it.

They had _both_ told me not to touch it.

And I had been here long enough to know that when Hiwatari and Dark agreed on something, then there had to be a really good reason for it. In this case, that it was a bad idea for me to touch this trinket.

But _why_...?

My fingers started to itch. I wasn't quite sure if it was because I wanted to touch the ring or because my hands were peeling, or both. After staring a bit more at the bauble, I concluded that it was a terrorizing mixture of both. At this rate, I'm going to go insane, torn between follow what was probably good advice and my curiosity.

With an act of extraordinary will that astounded even me, I was able to put it into the desk drawer and turn away from the damned thing to start undressing so that I could shower. I was beyond filthy.

I had just stripped off my over-shirt, gun with holster, and my white T-shirt when I heard someone clear their throat loudly. Spinning around, automatically grabbing my gun in the process, I found that I was glaring at a certain Phantom Thief. Frankly, it was become too common an occurrence.

"What," I demanded as I put up my gun and scrambling back into my large peach-colored over-shirt, "are you doing in here?"

"I'm here to take back that ring." He smirked when he said it. I _hate_ it when people smirk like that. It's irritating. Especially when that person is a criminal, a play-boy, possibly Houdini's apprentice, and bothering me at one in the morning while I am in a state of undress as well as the fact that I have a headache.

"Go away, Dark," I growled, groping for the buttons of my shirt. Buttons are hard to do with gloves on. "I don't feel like dealing with you right now."

Dark surveyed the room for a moment, taking in the chaotic mess of papers and photographs and maps and the cork boards that some of the aforementioned things were pinned to with brightly colored pins. He turned green pretty quickly.

All of the photos were in full color. As in mostly red. And they were the enlarged versions.

There were also two dry erase boards with my somewhat neat notes scrawled all over them.

"I can see why that is," Dark said, actually sounding serious. "How can you sleep in the same room as those pictures?"

"Eventually, you get used to it." My reply was clipped, short. "Now that you've had a nice look-see and asked your question of the day, go away. If I have to say it again, I'm going to forget that you have rights and shoot you." I was joking.

…Mostly.

I was shocked when he flew away without a witty comeback. Grateful, but shocked.

However, I was just too tired and wrung out to care about it for very long, and soon all that mattered was that the hot spray of the shower felt really good on my neck. I scrubbed down and, half an hour later, I climbed out and wrapped my now clean body in a fluffy pink towel that coved me from armpits to knees. Yes, pink. It matched the bathroom's wall paper.

At least it was closer to mauve than to bubblegum. I don't think I'd survive if the room was neon, bubblegummy pink. I'd die of ugly color overload.

But anyway, I shuffled out to the bedroom and began to wearily search under all the paper for my pajamas. In the process, I discovered my Advil under a spare bra that was lying on the small space heater in the corner (…don't ask) and popped two on the spot. The shower hadn't really helped dull the pain behind my eyes.

I never noticed the bastard until I walked right into him.

Springing back hastily with a startled yelp, I tripped over the desk chair and fell gracelessly into a heap on the floor. My fall, luckily, was broken by a pile of clothes that I hadn't quite gotten to the closet or the dresser yet. Happily, the towel had not slipped from my grasp or fallen open, so I was still decently covered. Huzzah.

I glowered up at Krad in what was speedily becoming rage. "Another one! Do you two conspire to make my life miserable? Because you're succeeding beautifully." I pushed myself back onto my feet slowly, and was excited when I managed to do it without falling down again. Damn, I was tired.

"And who am I supposedly conspiring with, girl?" the blond in front of me asked arrogantly.

I didn't have the energy to get into an argument about addressing me with "girl". "Dark, the bloody son of a bitch that he is, of course. Who else is annoying enough to be included with you?" A horrible possibility occurred to me. "Oh no! Please tell me there are no more of you people! My mind wouldn't survive it!"

Krad managed looked offended and handsome at the same time. Talent. "Do not include me with _him_," he hissed, tossing back his head and fixing me with steely eyes, "We are nothing alike."

If I had been feeling more myself and awake, I would have pointed out there they were both annoying and looked slightly like each other and, therefore, they were indeed similar. But right now, I just couldn't bring myself to be picky, so I let it go and instead said, "Just be a good bird-man and fly away home." I continued my quest for my PJs, essentially ignoring the snowy winged man standing in the middle of my room.

Krad snapped something I assume was a smug or irritating in reply, but I was too absorbed in searching to care.

In the middle of his spiel, I finally uncovered the Holy Grail of my quest: light blue flannel boxer shorts and a black boy's T-shirt with Clifford the Big Red Dog on the front. When this happened, I shouted in exhausted triumph, "Success!"

Krad's words stopped abruptly when I exclaimed this and he asked, "You weren't paying any attention, were you?"

Giving him a dismissive glance that I hoped conveyed the idea—no, essence—of exhaustion, I answered, "Not really. Can you go away now?" He opened his mouth to be angry. "No. I don't care," I cut him off, "You can be scary and evil later. To answer the only question I heard in that speech of yours, no, Dark doesn't have the ring. Happy now?"

He pulled out a feather and did his glowy thing. Golden light shone brightly over the room, highlighting just how disordered and hazardous I had let the place get.

Maybe it was something I said?

oOo

(A.N.) Well, there it is. A tiny cliffhanger for you all to be irritated about. Love! So come back and read the next chapter! Um... Oh, and I just started school again. I'm a junior... So, updates may be slower than before. I'll try and stay to about every week, but I can't guarentee anything. Thanks and be patient!


	11. Chapter 10

Disclaimer: Luke I am your father. insert creepy mechanical breathing here

Touch

Chapter 10

(A.N.) Okay, so here's chapter 10 for you. Hope you like it. Thanks to all readers and reviewers, and to my beta, Serpent of Slytherin. Um... Yeah. The rulers still aren't working on the editing thing here on so I hope it doesn't throw anyone off. Enjoy!

oOo

The gold colored light from Krad's power brought out the honey and caramel highlights in the wood paneling of the walls and cast long, eerie shadows on the floor. Wings spread wide, the light transforming his face with cast shadows and shiny spots of light, Krad was looking less and less like the benevolent angels they tell you about in church, and more like the avenging archangels instead. Or maybe he resembled Lucifer, the fallen angel who had been known as "Lightbringer". The angel who defied God and became the being most of human kind refers to as the Devil.

I backed up slowly, pink towel clutched around my body, and searched for my gun. I couldn't seem to remember where I'd put it before climbing into the shower. My mind was washed with a kind of stunned fear, tinged with it to the point of numbing my rational mind. My hands itched as I remember what his power had done to me last time. Body memory was an incredibly thing, from a memorized martial arts move to the phantom pain of an amputated limb.

Menacingly, Krad advanced on me with smooth and predatory strides. My instincts screamed at me to run away with urgency, but there was nowhere to go except the bathroom, and I'll be damned if I run and hide in the tub like some idiot in a horror movie. Maybe if I hide here, in the bathtub, hidden by a sheer curtain, the bad thing won't get me.

Yeah. Right. That would save my psychic ass.

"You have a very insolent mouth, human," Krad hissed, "and you possess something that is not yours to have. Return it." The command was thick with malice and hate.

"It isn't yours either," I said quietly, hoping sincerely that my gun would mysteriously appear in my hand.

Yellow cat eyes flashing, Krad flicked the feather in an almost delicate motion, and I was flung back into the wall of the room. "It is more mine than you could ever guess."

I still hadn't lost my towel. At least something was going well. "It's a woman's ring," I protested out loud. I didn't think Krad was the kind of guy who wore heart shaped gems on his hands.

"I know. Return it. Now." Pressure began to build, pushing against my body, as he spoke. Hard jabs of it accompanied each syllable, and I found it difficult to breath without pain blossoming in my chest. "_Now_, human," he repeated.

Air hitched in my throat, and I managed to rasp out, "Fine, I'll—" My words were broken off by a fit of coughing as my lungs struggled to pull enough oxygen in to function.

The pressure disappeared, and I slumped to the ground in a heap, gasping desperately and hyperventilating. The rush of new oxygen into my body made my head spin and throb more than it had been prior to almost being suffocated.

"Get it," Krad commanded an arrogant edge to his cold voice. The glow around his body had died down, but it wasn't gone. A reminder that he could still kick the shit out me. This was one of many times when I wished my abilities were more offensive than supportive. An empathy/seer isn't much good in a fight. The only advantages are my gun and my training, but those were certainly out as options when your attacker could blast you with what seemed to be pure magic.

I managed to get my feet under me with falling, but the world was swaying back and forth and swirling around with the fluidity of water. Everything seemed fuzzy around the edges. It was a strange feeling, similar to how you feel after almost drowning. I'd never been "suffocated" before, but I've almost drowned twice. Once in a vision, and once when I fell off of Jamestown Bridge in Rhode Island two years ago _after_ a vision.

Frankly, it all made me nauseous.

Staggering on the perceivably uneven floor, I scratched almost blindly at the latch of the desk drawer with my back to Krad. It took a frustratingly long time to open the damned thing, but I was able to fish out the silver ring with its dark blue stone. Krad's faint yellow glow lit up the many facets of the sapphire, and I was struck, suddenly, by its undeniable and subtle beauty.

Too late, I realized that my fingers were twitching in a sickeningly familiar way.

**Bastard! **

"**I'll kill you! Do you hear me! I'll kill you!" I scream.**

**My husband backs away, still smelling of his whoring mistress. Her lip paint smeared over his mouth, the stale stench of sex clinging to his skin and clothes. He also reeks of _sake_. And blood.**

"**It's not what you think," he begins.**

"**Lies! For this, I will bring all I am down on you," I yell, spitting with rage, "You may have some of the Blood in you, but I was a Tamer. I am stronger than you can ever dream." **

"**No! I didn't… I was just—"**

"**Shame! That's what you were 'just' doing. Nothing but shame on our family, on _my _family. I am a Hikari! I will not stand for such shame! And you killed her! You took a life! You know our laws!" My magic came to my call quickly. Art is not the only thing those of my bloodline could make, we could cause pain. The White Wings had taught me this, long ago. **

**I will teach my husband a painful lesson. He will have no second chances. **

**Another lesson handed down to me by my former other half.**

I flung the ring as far away from me as I could. The anger, the rage, clung to my senses. I wanted to rip and tear something. Wanted to kill and torture. Angry screeching ricocheted inside my mind, veiling the world with the color red. My body moved without my will, whirling around to confront the intruder in my room.

There was no one there.

Krad was gone.

**Always gone.**

My body moved again, but I didn't want it to.

**Left me when I needed help.**

My hands grasped the sides of the wooden desk chair and lifted, but it wasn't my emotional energy behind the action. It hit me, then, that something that had never happened before was happening now.

I was _possessed_. Possessed by the lingering emotions trapped in the ring.

My brain had been overridden by this woman's feelings, by her rage. I had no doubt that she had killed her husband that night. I couldn't doubt. I would have killed him too.

**Suffer.**

Words spilled from my lips in Japanese, words I didn't know. I was trapped between the real world and a vision, the aura-like entity shimmering around the room in front of my dazed eyes.

I was out of control.

**I loved him! Gave him everything! Gave _up_ everything!**

I tossed the chair off the balcony, my inner voice remarking that it was good that the doors were open. All that glass would be a bitch to clean up. I hear the wood of the chair crash and splinter as it struck the rocky cliff side.

Angry jerking motions re-tucked the towel around my body tightly, and my feet paced aimlessly as I smashed small objects and, eventually, I drove my right fist into the mirror in the bathroom. Large gashes opened up in my flesh, but I barely felt the pain through all of the woman's anger. Blood dripped off my knuckles.

**Gave up wings for love!**

Longing swept through the rage, a blind longing for something, someone, lost. A need to replace. Deep sadness followed. And then, back to red rage.

**How dare he?**

The door opened, and all that my alien emotion-filled body cared about that the person who walked in was male and breathing. "_Yarou_!" I shrieked, words leaving my mouth of their own accord, "_Shinde_!" I didn't even know what I was saying. My legs launched my body forward. Momentum carried me straight into a startled Hiwatari. Together, we crashed to the ground as he tried to save himself from the worst of the fall by redirecting the force into a partial roll. My head screamed at my uncooperative body to stop as it clawed at him. "_Usotsuki_! _Yarou Hikari_! _Shinde_!_ Shinde_!"

Shoving, he was able to dislodge me and sent me rolling. Under normal circumstance, I would have commented on how strong he was for someone who looked so thin, but my mouth wouldn't form the words I wanted, it just kept working to spit out all the Japanese that belonged to the woman. I had a feeling that they were all either threats or obscenities. Or both. We struggled with each other and he finally pinned me face down on the ground and held. My muscles and joints strained, but there was no shaking him.

He held me down like that for a good five or ten minutes before my body started to slow and relax.

I was shaking uncontrollably as adrenaline began to drain away, leaving an exhausting buzz in my veins behind. Tears leaked out of my eyes, but I wasn't the one crying.

**Wings…**

Taking deep, shuddering breaths, I felt control returning to me one bit at a time. My fingers flexed at my command, as did my toes. Muscles contracted and stretched when I wanted them to, and soon my body and my emotions were my own again. However, I could still sense the woman's old and powerful emotions hovering, like someone knocking on your door while you're sleeping. Closing my eyes, I inhaled, slowly, and counted to seven, then held the breath for seven, then released to a count of seven. Tears kept streaming from my eyes.

Hiwatari's ragged breathing and mine were the only sounds in the now quiet room. He kept my arms pinned in painful positions behind my back. I didn't blame him. Who would?

"Jesus H. Christ," I finally managed to whisper, "She…" I paused to clear my tear clogged throat, "She killed him. She fucking killed him."

Hiwatari growled at me. A real, genuine growl. "What are you babbling about?"

Another deep breath. "I'm sorry about—"

"Trying to tear me up?"

"Yeah. That. If it's any consolation, I didn't mean it. If I had known I could get possessed by emotions, then I wouldn't have touched that ring with my bare hand."

"You _what_?" Hiwatari half-yelled in disbelief.

The area rug was scratching the skin that my faithful towel had finally exposed. It had opened in the front and slid down to expose most of my upper back and waist. This was not a position that I wanted to have a conversation in. "Can I get dressed first?"

Cautiously, the Commander let go of my arms and backed up. To his credit, he turned around when I stood for decency's sake. Good God. Flying bird people I could believe, but a gentlemanly teenage boy? That was definitely a horse of a different color.

Managing to re-excavate my PJs and some clean undergarments, I fled to the bathroom where I got dressed, trying to be mindful of the sharp glass fragments on the floor from the mirror I'd broken. Once that was done, I returned to the bedroom and found Hiwatari righting a bulletin board that I think got knocked over at some point. The whole room was in even more disarray than it had been before. Papers flung everywhere, the chair gone, broken glass, and… I'd flipped the mattress off the Western style bed? Now that's something I don't recall. I think. Sort of.

I grabbed my white linen gloves off the bedside table and stuffed my hands into them hurriedly. Then, I went to help Hiwatari right the other boards and reattach the maps and photos with colorful pins. When that was done and over with, I picked the ring up gingerly with a pair of tweezers I'd retrieved from my suitcase. Call me crazy, but I didn't want to touch it at all. I could feel Hiwatari's eyes, so similar to the jewel of the ring, practically burning a hole in my back, right between my shoulder blades.

"Who was the woman?" I asked without turning around. I wanted to find the remains of the desk chair, but was too chicken to go out on the balcony.

A pause. "I don't know," Hiwatari answered. "What happened here?"

I'm pretty sure he lied to me about the woman, but, at this moment, I didn't really feel like talking about it any more than that. Instead, I placed the ring back into the desk drawer and I told him what had happened from the instant that Dark had shown up to his own arrival. I didn't even leave out the glowing feather Krad had almost asphyxiated me with, and Hiwatari didn't even blink. It was as if what I said made perfect sense, was a common occurrence in the world.

Which it certainly wasn't.

I called him on it, to which he just stared impassively for a long moment and quoted, "There are more things in Heaven and Earth." I smiled. Who would have thought he would know that saying?

"Or in Hell," I added. It wasn't part of the saying, but it was far more accurate than heavenly mysteries. "So, what brought you here?"

He balked and didn't answer.

Frowning, I sat on the knocked-askew mattress and stared at him intently, curling my knees into my chest and wrapping my arms around them. "Well?" I asked. "There must have been some reason."

"There were reported sightings of Dark in the vicinity," Hiwatari finally answered. He was lying through his teeth. I could feel it. That's "feel" with a capital "F" by the way. "I came to investigate and heard crashing and yelling, so I let myself in."

"Uh-huh," I muttered, "Sure you did. It's just a coincidence that Krad showed up. Who is he? Hell, I'd settle for knowing _what_ he is. Right now, I'm stuck with the theory that he's Lucifer, also known as Satan, the Devil, the Prince of Lies, et cetera, et cetera."

Sapphire eyes darkening, Hiwatari muttered, "You're not that far off."

After that, he refused to say anymore on the subject.

"So let me get this straight," I finally growled, "You aren't going to tell me about the ring, even though you clearly know about it. You aren't going to tell me anything about suspected devil incarnate Krad, even though you know him. And you are going to lie about every thing else. Is that the jist of it?"

He shrugged, and my irritation spiked into a dangerous range. "You said it, not me. I will discuss all the matters relevant to the case with you if I think it necessary. Other than that, I am not required to share any knowledge with you."

"And how does the history of a ring that was found in a hidden room in a well close to where the killer left the body of the third victim not fall into the category of 'relevant to the case'?"

"Since I know for a fact that everyone connected to that ring is either dead or too old to be a serial killer. No one else knows about that ring."

"You and Dark and Krad do," I pointed out.

He sighed. "Dark shouldn't know about it, but the more I think about, the less it surprises me." He wasn't happy about it.

"And you and Krad…?"

"Have reasons."

"I'm sure."

We stared at each other for a few moments.

"This is going nowhere," I commented flatly.

"So glad you noticed," Hiwatari returned just as stoically.

Exhaling noisily, I got off the bare mattress and started to reorganize some of the files and papers we hadn't gotten to, and I started tossing clothing into drawers and my suitcase. Almost nothing got hung up in the closet. Just my school uniform, a suit, and a dress. When I noticed Hiwatari's curious gaze, I said scathingly, "Yes, I own one. It's green with lace and ribbons on it. Try not to die of shock." I was smiling though. I don't get a lot of chances to wear dresses or other pretty things, and despite contradictory rumors or events, I do enjoy feeling pretty once in a while. What girl doesn't?

Finally, I started trying to put the bed to rights, and ended up almost crushed by the mattress. You wouldn't think that a mattress would weigh so much, but it's a lie. All lies. It felt like I was being sat on by an elephant. Hiwatari took pity on my partially squashed self and helped me lift the blasted thing up and but it back on the box spring. I tossed the pillows and a comforter on it and called the bed made. I am by no means OCD about anything other then case stuff. Beyond that, I'm really more of a slob since I never really have time to "clean".

"Thanks," I said to my blue-haired companion, panting a little.

"_Douitashimashite_," he replied. He wasn't panting. Bastard.

Well, might as well put him to use.

"Would help me with the rest of the clean up?" I asked, hopeful for a "yes".

He looked startled for a minute, but then he nodded.

I told myself that my heart didn't skip a beat because of it.

I also told myself that I was lying like a rug.

oOo

It's time, he thought to himself as he waited in the shadows. With the day's sunrise, it would be time for him to take her. His canvas, he little swan. She would be his salvation.

And then he would be recognized.

And forgiven.

Art would save him. Art would deliver him from this Purgatory, and then everyone would know who he was. They wouldn't be able to accuse him of monstrousness anymore. They would be forced to admit his talent, his greatness.

_She_ will have to admit it. He would prove her wrong. And he would do it in her image.

He pictured his new canvas in his mind and imagined what he would do with her. He would paint her skin with swirls of blood, maybe a new pose. He would give her a necklace of burns since the reddened and blistered skin would be beautiful against the white perfection of the rest of her body. He most certainly would have to dress her lovely hair, maybe with scented oil. He hadn't tried that before with the other canvases. Maybe that had been his mistake?

He would correct that, he decided with glee.

His calling consumed him. His longing. His obsession. That place he went to in his head when he planned his works. He knew how long she would last, but he hoped she didn't fight. He hated to damage the swans. But some always fought him for some reason. Like _she_ had done.

Rain began to fall outside.

Water. _Pain_. _Loneliness_.

He would end this. Soon. Soon they will know him. Accept his genius. _Love_ him.

The artist planned what tools to use as the rain pattered the windows. Knives and fire. Fear and rape. They looked so much prettier when they died afraid. There was more expression.

This time, the swan would die with her eyes wide open. He would make sure of it.

And, of course, he would use his hands. Hands of an artist. Hands that will mold and create perfection.

After all, it was what he was meant to do. What his blood called for him to do.

It was all art. It was all his calling, his obsession.

His _redemption_.

oOo

(A.N.) Oh! One more thing. I know I say it after every chapter, but it doesn't seem to make any difference usually since I find that I have about fifty hits and three to five reviews. Please REVIEW. Thank you all kindly. Next chapter will come sooner or later.


	12. Chapter 11

Disclaimer: Come to the Dark Side, young Skywalker.

Touch

Chapter 11

A.N.) Instead of my usual speech, I think I shall sing and dance! (dancing around and singing DDR songs) Ai yai yai. Ai yai yai. Where's my samurai? (relizes that everyone is staring at me like I've grown five more heads) (stops dancing and singing) Um... Maybe I should do all my usual stuff. Yeah. Thanks to all reviewers, and to my betas. All three of them. Also, I apologize for the long wait. I had some pretty nasty writer's block. Now, enjoy the chapter!

* * *

_I was dreaming again. I knew it, felt it clearly and surely. _

_Drip drop._

_It was the _same_ dream. The heavy dripping sounds, the deep shadows, the seemingly endless dreamscape that had no true top or bottom. _

_Swish. Drip drop spatter drip. Flutter._

_That soft sound was the same as before as well. I recognized it now. It was the sound of wings rustling softly. Closing my dream-eyes, I dropped all the shields I usually kept erected around my mind. I had to imagine taking apart the walls around my "garden". It's a visualizing trick. You create a symbol for your mind, in my case a rock garden with carefully combed sand and large boulders of quartz laced stone, and then you find another symbol for your shield. Personally, I used a very simple wall made of dark red bricks and mortar that seemed to touch the sky. Keeping out everyone else's emotions was a heavy thing, so I liked my sturdy stone wall. It worked well._

_Pulling out the last brick, a swift current of feeling flooded my senses, but it was almost soft compared to what I had experienced with the sapphire ring. I could sort through the different emotions, like a weaver counting strings. I plucked each one curiously, searching for the thread that resonated with the other entity I was sure existed in this shadow place._

_Almost like tuning a string instrument, really. Find the one that sounds right, adjust it and listen, move closer, test again. It was a slow process. Just because I'm asleep doesn't mean that I can't feel the emotions of the waking world, it just muffles them._

_There! Found it! _

_Fwif swish. Drip drop pit patter. Plop. _

_The sounds of falling liquid and the rustling of wings grew louder as I followed the string. I didn't bother to count steps or anything like that. In a place like this, Fiona had told me that would be useless. Fiona, a Southern woman in her fifties, was what I call a "dreamwalker". Sort of like the fairy tale Sandman. She could enter the dreams of others, turning them into nightmares or good dreams. Memory suggestion during sleep and the sharing of information between two different minds were also within her power to do. She's one of the few psychics, one of the real ones, which I've been able to track down. She taught me what she could, but what I could do here was limited. I don't have Fiona's gift._

"_Go away," the man's voice whispered, his form still hidden from my sight. "This is not your place."_

_Unheeding, I kept following the thread, visualizing that it glowed bright and fluorescent in the darkness. The man's emotions began to shift from a quiet frustration to anger. _

"_Go back!" he yelled. "This is no place for you! Humans don't belong here!"_

_His anger rolled through me, filling my heart and mind, but it was still soft in a way that I can't explain. It wasn't strong. I swallowed his anger and let it be, controlling the effect it had on me. _

_I recognized the taste of this anger._

"_How..?" I searched for words, "What are you here?" The question came unbidden to my lips, strangely phrased. But it was, in few words, what I really wanted to know._

_Hesitation crackled around me, his emotions and mine. Then his arrogance began to chase away the balking, quickly and efficiently. "I am part of darkness but not of it. Here, I am yang to yin." Small pinpricks of light, almost like stars started to pierce the midnight cloak that surrounded me._

"_Is _this_ what you really are?" I asked. I had seen the real thing, and there was nothing that would make me think of him like that in this place. "This," I said, sweeping my arms out to indicate the entire expanse of the space, "is empty."_

_The light grew, and the entire place _breathed_. "Nothing is empty."_

"_What—?"_

"_Now, begone!" the voice commanded. "And stay in your own world of Dreams. I will not tolerate you here again."_

"_But—!"_

"_GO!"

* * *

_

I didn't go to school. There was too much to do, too much to worry about. The killer would take another girl today, and I didn't know much more now that I did when I started on this case six days ago. No solid evidence, no face, no predictions. I was feeling my way through the dark on this one. Not a pleasant experience for me. I'm used to learning more than this. The best Hiwatari and I could do was order patrol cars to drive through all the roads in the town, and in the rural land surrounding the town. To say the least, we were stretching our personnel very thin over a substantial area.

There was no way we were going to do a damn bit of good unless we got unbelievably lucky, and I don't like relying on luck when lives are at stake.

Sending out messages to all available officers, I called a meeting to brief all the dispatchers and correspondents, who would then relay everything to the patrol cars. The long rectangular room filled up with men and women, some sitting in chairs and some standing along the walls. The tenth and last person sidling in, I began to sum up what to look for, "Any female between the ages of fourteen and eighteen with dark hair and eyes and pale skin that is walking alone is to be escorted home. No exceptions. If necessary, pile more than one into the car and drive them all home. If there is no one at their residence, bring them to the station. Not one of these girls is to be alone today."

Then, I went over the map of Azumano and the surrounding areas, grabbing a red marker on the way. Uncapping the marker, I began drawing lines, separating the land into sections, assigning each one to a dispatcher along the way. By the time I was done, the entire town and rural land of Azumano had been divided into ten irregular pieces.

"_Itte_," I said, dismissing them. "I'll be on frequency five. Hiwatari-_san_ will be on six. Keep us both informed of what's happening. Suspects, and what girls you escort, that sort of thing. _Ganbatte_."

They all hurried out, returning to their desks and relaying orders. Hiwatari also exited, leaving me staring blankly at the map, the door swinging closed behind him. The sick, tight feeling in my gut told me that this wasn't going to work. Nothing we did was going to make a damn difference. He was going to take another girl and I was powerless to stop it. Shaking with frustration, I curled my hands into fists, the cloth-on-cloth pressure making a soft sliding sound. It was eerie to hear it in the empty room, reminding me of the sounds from my dream.

Which I still didn't understand. Among other things.

Door squeaking back open, Hiwatari returned with a cup of tea in each hand. He held one of them out to me, and I took it gratefully. The steaming liquid didn't really soothe my nerves, but it did loosen the knot in my abdomen. Slightly.

"_Arigatou_," I thanked him tiredly. Neither of us had gotten much sleep. Once we'd straightened out my room, both of us had decided to come right back to the station house to start planning today's events. I'd been able to steal about twenty minutes of snooze time a couple hours ago. As far as I know, Hiwatari hadn't slept at all yet. There were pronounced dark circles under his blue, blue eyes.

Like a smart person, I didn't comment on them. He wasn't the type to take concern very well.

"What now?" I asked, dropping into a hard plastic chair.

"We wait," Hiwatari replied.

I sipped my tea.

Waiting it was.

oOo

We'd been waiting for three hours.

And nothing had happened.

Yet.

I tapped my foot. My leg was starting to cramp from all the foot tapping. "I don't think I can take much more of this," I muttered anxiously. I don't handle waiting too well.

"Do you have a better suggestion?" Hiwatari asked, clearly irritated that I'd started to drum my fingertips on the tabletop. Even with the white gloves to dull the sound, my fingers still made muted thumps on the oak surface.

I pondered for a second. Hm…

Nothing.

Damn.

Sighing, I picked up my thirty second cup of tea and sipped. I was getting really tired of green tea, but it was that or the sludge they called coffee. At least the tea still moved like liquid. "I don't have any ideas," I admitted, "I just can't stand this." I stood and began pacing like a caged animal, feeling slightly claustrophobic.

That's it. I can't take it anymore!

Grabbing my black lightweight jacket and shrugging it on, I hurried out of the room. Without looking, I knew that Hiwatari was following, the sound of his footsteps echoing mine. I ran my hands over my body, doing a check. Gloves? Check. Gun? Check. Radio? Check.

All here.

The chilly spring air hit my face like a slap when I rushed out the police station doors. If I couldn't ride along in a car, I'd walk the damn streets. Hiwatari paced easily, if a tad tiredly, at my side. Somewhere along the line, he'd put on a dark blue jacket that he zipped halfway up once we'd hit the street. We didn't talk, and I found that I was growing to like the silence. A lot of people, of both genders, talk far too much. Myself included. It was nice to find someone who didn't find pointless jabbering necessary.

I stifled a sigh. This was probably the worst time for me to start "liking" someone. Especially since I was going to be returning to the U.S. as soon as this case was wrapped up. And because this needed to stay a professional relationship. Working relationships end badly, not to mention I would take some serious heat for it at the Bureau. Being a minor, and psychic, means that I have to operate, basically, by specially tailored rules. Sometimes, that allows me a great deal of liberty, but it can also restrict me. It took forever to convince Corvin to stop sending "chaperons" with me on every case. He had finally agreed because they kept getting in the way once I picked up a good trail on a suspect or victim. I didn't want to jeopardize what I'd achieved so far. One of the stipulations of working at the Bureau, for me, was that I wasn't allowed to date. More teenage baggage than they wanted, I suspect.

Plus my mom would be extremely vocal about it. And not in a good way.

Talk about shackles, right?

But, if we talk in "hypotheticals"… Well, maybe I'd try and act on it. I would have to find a way to overcome the whole psychic thing, but I'd try. Although, if it took what it cost to end up with empathic clairvoyance to get rid of it, then there would be severe problems. I'd still try anyway. In all honesty, I'd rather be normal, painful process or not.

"Yeah right…" I murmured to myself, shoving my hands into my jacket pockets.

"_Nan desu ka_?"

I looked at Hiwatari and suppressed another sigh. "Just thinking about what being normal would be like."

He cocked an eyebrow. "You'd rather it?"

"I'd take having no visions than experiencing what I do. It took a long time to get used to it," I said, scanning the area. I was multitasking. Go me.

"Get used to it?"

"Well, I was only eight when it all started happening," I explained, paying very little attention to the conversation. I had to get back on task, be vigilant. "There was an 'incident' and I came out of it with my supposed gift." It was never called anything but the "Incident".

Hiwatari was silent, too polite, I think, to pry any more into it. Or uninterested. Either, either way, it didn't really matter in the end.

The conversation was officially over when Hiwatari's cell phone rang and my radio squawked. While my companion flipped open his cell, I yanked the walkie-talkie from my belt and said quickly, "What is it?" My voice was tight with apprehension.

The dispatcher relayed the news shakily, and I felt the blood drain from my face. Hiwatari's face showed a similar reaction as whoever was on the line with him told him what I assumed to be the same information.

"God damn it!" I whispered. "Damn it!"

I heard Hiwatari murmuring instructions to the caller in Japanese, and I was able to pick out words like "crime scene" and "parents".

The killer had taken another, right out of her own house.

Killing the girl's brother in the process.

* * *

The Man was furious. So stupid, having to kill that meddling boy. He should have waited, the killer told himself, should have just been more patient until the swan had left her nest. The boy shouldn't have been there!

It had been so _sloppy_, so _imprecise_. So…so…_imperfect_.

He could hear Her yelling at him in his head, picking away, like she always did when he did something imperfect. _Shizuka!_ he thought.

She kept sniping. Imperfect. Unworthy. Ugly. Stupid.

"Shizuka!" the Man roared. He wasn't any of those things. _Artist_. He was an artist. He would prove it. Had to prove it. Couldn't let Her make a fool out of him anymore. Wouldn't let Her.

Whimpering. The swan was crying again. He hated it when they cried. Made them messy, reddened their usually lovely dark eyes. He couldn't have that.

Ripping, tearing methodically, he stripped the canvas down to her flesh. His beautifully blank canvas. Examining her pushed all thoughts of his mistake and Her out of his sadistically creative mind. Carefully, he tightened the silk cords binding her wrists and ankles. Rope wouldn't be appropriate for this one. This one would be special. He also blindfolded her.

Soft skin. Silky hair. Dark, liquid eyes. Absolute _perfection._

"Let me go," the swan begged prettily, curling her legs up as far as they would go to cover her nakedness, "Please don't hurt me."

Unheeding, the killer traced his artist's hand down the side of her heart shaped face, caressing his way down to her shoulder and collarbone. "I shan't hurt you," he crooned softly, "I shall transform you into the beauty I know you can be." The knife felt good in his hand, the bone handle warm from holding it. The boy's blood still stained its razor sharp blade.

He pressed the blade's tip gently against her chest. The center. Made a thin and shallow cut from there to right over her heart.

The swan began to sob.

He couldn't have that. Something to distract her then. He placed the knife carefully on the ground and forced the swan's legs back down.

He knew exactly what to do.

* * *

Sweet Mary, Mother of God. 

The boy can't possibly be older than ten years old.

I couldn't take my eyes off his body where it lay lifeless on the floor in front of me. A pool of blood had stained the light cream carpet under his head from the wound in his neck. I hadn't gotten close enough to examine the slice, but it looked clean and practiced. This boy's throat isn't the first the killer had slit.

A ragged shriek pierced the semi-quiet of the processing crew.

Hiwatari had just told the parents.

"Jesus, Mary, and Joseph," I breathed, rubbing my hand over my face. My fault. This whole mess was my fault. I had missed something crucial. Something that would have prevented this.

"_Tantei_?"

"_Hai?_ What is it, Yamakawa-_san_?"

The officer's eyes were bleak when he met my gaze. "The forensics team is finished with the room."

My mouth went dry. "I understand. Tell them to pack up and to take what they collected back to their labs. And inform the coroner to wait by his vehicle until I'm done. He can take the body," I choked on the word, "after I've done my thing."

Yamakawa turned away without further comment and began to issue my orders.

Slowly, the men and women filtered out of the bedroom, leaving me and Yamakawa with the corpse. I took deep breaths through my mouth. The smell of blood was thick in here. Without begin told to, Yamakawa began to set up a video recorder on a tripod, moving mechanically. This was probably his first child corpse, and it would haunt him for the rest of his life. The kids usually do.

And it was all my bloody fault!

The door was shut with a soft click, and Hiwatari moved into my line of vision. He looked shell-shocked and drained. Even if I hadn't heard the mother's agonized scream, I would have know from his expression that he'd just broken the news to the parents. Most officers and detectives look the same way after something like that.

Shutting my eyes, I did more deep breathing, took off my jacket and began to wriggle my hands out of my gloves. The cloth slid away and I flexed my fingers out of habit once they were free of fingers of the gloves. "How old was he?" I asked, crouching down next to the body. Morbid as it was, I had to know. I _had _to.

"He turned nine last month," Hiwatari said quietly, referencing his notebook.

No one spoke for a long time. That little bit of information sank in, contaminated our minds. So young.

Finally, I managed some semblance of a "let's get this over with", and reached my hand out until it brushed his still warm forehead.

**I open the door, just home from school. I can't wait to find Miyo and tell her about the A+ I got on my math test! **

**I bound into the house and up the stairs, my school bag swinging in my hand. Miyo is always in her room when I get home, listening to really soft music that I don't really like and doing her homework. On the top floor, I walk down the hall towards her room. Strange… I can hear weird thumping noises coming from her room, and the door was slightly open. Miyo _always_ closed her door all the way. For "privacy" she said. **

**Apprehensively, I push the door open and freeze. **

**Man. With a knife. My sister cowering in the corner, holding a lamp in her hand.**

**The Man turns, but my eyes are fixed on my sister. "Miyo?" I say, unsure and scared.**

**Panic on her face. "Run away, Kiyoshi!" She throws the lamp at the Man. "Run!"**

**She missed the Man.**

**I take a step forward. "But sister, wha--?" **

**Sharp pain. Warmth flowing down my neck and chest. **

**I'm falling. Miyo…**

My neck ached when I lurched out of the flashback, and I could feel blood trickling down my body. "Miyo…" I croaked, my vocal cords in the process of mending themselves. "Mi…" I pushed my body up shakily, "…yo…"

I could still get to her…

Something warm was draped over my shoulders, and someone's hands were suddenly supporting my weight through the material. "Simon-_san_?"

That's right. Awareness flowed back slowly into my brain. I was Cassie Simon. Cassandra. Not Kiyoshi. Miyo wasn't my sister; she was the girl who had been taken. Kiyoshi was the dead boy.

I wasn't dead.

Shaking my shoulders, Hiwatari said, "Snap out of it."

I applauded his presence of mind to use a buffer between his skin and mine. Honestly, I don't think I could take another vision right now. It was a bad sign when it took me a while to remember who I was.

Blood was still moving down my face and neck.

Wait a minute. My face?

"Yamakawa," Hiwatari's voice was sharp and concise, "go get a tissue or towel or something. Her nose won't stop bleeding." He tipped my head back, a warm hand behind my neck.

Emotions were flowing in and out of my head, teasing my senses. Concern, fresh. Old fear. Pain. Recent and not so recent. Every one swirled in my head. My entire wall had been shattered by shock.

Confusion hit me in the face, and I wasn't sure if it was mine or someone else's. There was murderous intent and rage and longing. The copper taste of blood and fear coated my tongue and stuck in my throat.

Kill.

Run.

Help.

_Want_.

Which one was mine?

* * *

(A.N.) Well, that's it for now. Please review! I mean it! How am I supposed to fix my weak points if you all don't tell me what my weak points are? Besides, if I don't get more reiveiws, I shall cry. (eyes tear up) Please please please review! I'll give anyone who reviews a cyber-cookie!


	13. Chapter 12

Disclaimer: Know how to use the Force, you do not.

Touch

Chapter 12

(A.N.) Thanks to everyone for reviewing and all that. You guys already know this speech, so I'll skip it. Some of you are asking good questions, and I would answer them, but to do so would kind of ruin my plot, so I'm afraid I'm just going to have to leave you in the dark. Sorry! Much love! Please enjoy the chapter!

* * *

_Beep. Beep. Beep._

What is that noise?

_Beep. Beep._

What is it? It's annoying.

_Beep. Beep. Beep._

"Her eyelids fluttered," a man said, sounding anxious, "Is she waking up?"

The click-clack of high heels drew close to me, and then stopped. A cool hand rested on my forehead, tilting my head back, and I forced my eyes to open more. Light pierced my vision, causing a violent pain to stab my head for a moment. The annoying beeping sound was coming from the machine hooked up to my heart. I also spotted an IV line running into the crook of my arm, clear liquid flowing into my bloodstream. The owner of the cool hand was a small, formidable looking woman wearing a nurse's uniform. Maybe in her late fifties. Or she could just be graying early.

The ceiling beyond the woman was white and sectioned into one foot square tiles, decorated by the long florescent lights that left no room for shadows. Ammonia scented the air. Clean. Sterile. Blinking slowly, I wondered briefly why I couldn't move. My limbs felt so heavy…

And why am I in the hospital?

"_Tantei_?" Yamakawa said quietly, seating himself in a chair the nurse placed next to my bed. "How are you feeling?"

My mouth was dry as cotton, and it took me a few moments to gather enough words. "What…they…give me?"

Yamakawa open his mouth to answer, but was cut off by the stern nurse of the steely hair. "A tranquilizer," she said brusquely, "and something to stabilize your heart rate _and _a painkiller."

With the world swirling unsteadily and beginning to change colors, I could believe it.

…Is that a small dough man walking on the wall?

And a…bicycle?

I blinked as furiously as I could, trying to make my eyes stop seeing weird drug induced shit. I failed miserably. And not only did I fail, but the dough man also acquired a dough dog at some point. It was purple and green. How odd…

"Yamakawa," I rasped, trying valiantly to ignore the strange dough things, "what happened?" My tongue was tripping over my words horribly.

"You had a vision," he answered. "Do you remember that?"

Nodding, I watched the dough man was building a robin's egg blue house out of orange sticks. Isn't that impossible? "Kiyoshi…" I forced myself to say, throat clogging, "and Miyo…"

"That's right," the officer said encouragingly, like I'd done something really amazing. Then, his face sobered. "But when you came out of it, you didn't seem to know what was going on, and the Commander couldn't staunch your bleeding nose. You passed out and began babbling uncontrollably about a broken wall. Nothing we did helped at all. The Commander phoned for an ambulance, and the paramedics brought you here. Both of us rode in the ambulance with you."

Oh. That's right. I did remember that. Except for the ambulance though. I'd been too busy having strange nightmares full of blood and feathers and stone. A dream that wasn't a dream that I'd spent rebuilding my rock garden's wall and following the threads of my own consciousness back into my self. No, that was not meant to make sense. At least I'm good at building my shields. If I was bad at it, my mind would be complete mush by now.

Speaking of gardens, the dough man now had a dough wife and dough children, and they were all planting marigolds. Red ones. "Can marigolds be red?" I accidentally asked out loud. Another dough person was riding around on a green bicycle.

Poor Yamakawa. He looked so confused. The nurse, in her stern and efficient way, shooed him away after hearing the question and taking a good look at my face. She was alternating pressing her lips together in a thin line and muttering to herself. Something about giving powerful drugs to children.

This reminds me.

"Why they…have…steady heart?" I garbled unsteadily.

Checking my IV and making a short notation on her clipboard, the nurse didn't even glance down at me when she replied, "You went into cardiac arrest, of course. There's no other reason to give someone heart medication."

Sarcastic bitch. A nurse shouldn't be mean to patients. Especially when they could command dough men armies. I was seriously contemplating siccing the dough dog on her when the door, shut by Yamakawa upon his exit, opened again and Hiwatari came in. Turning, the nurse prepared to unleash her dark evil eye of doom on him, and I got ready to defend him with the dough people. If nothing else, they could act as cannon fodder. Except the dog. The dog gets to stay since he's so adorable.

However, my counter-plan was unnecessary since Hiwatari stopped the nurse in her tracks with his own level gaze. Motioning her over, Hiwatari spoke quietly with her, and she left huffing with disapproval. So, the sacrificing of my army didn't happen.

"How are you feeling?" Hiwatari asked in perfect monotone, sitting down in the chair.

"Dandy," I managed to say, "Dough people…oodles of fun. 'Specially the doggie. Purple…"

His dark blue eyes widened substantially. I think he was concerned. A lot. Then he frowned, saying, "Just what in the world did they give you?"

Ignoring his question, I started humming, reached into the air to grab the flower floating above my face. It was pink, but a nice pink. Not bubblegum. In a sing-song voice, I asked Hiwatari, "Flowers shouldn't jump around so much, right?" I snatched at the damn thing, but my attempts were futile. The flower kept moving around. Crafty. Very crafty. Like a fox.

"Simon-_san_, I believe you should get some rest before I brief you," Hiwatari said reprovingly. I don't think he appreciated my flower-stalking antics.

I looked up into his eyes and immediately changed my indignant response to something I'd been dying to say for a while, "You have pretty eyes." My words were starting to slur a little around the edges.

If possible, his eyes widened more. And I think he blushed a little. Maybe. Or maybe I was just seeing that the pinkish vines, which had been growing up his shoulders ever since he'd seated himself, had finally begun twining around his face. I opened my mouth to warn him of his immediate danger by way of mauve vines, but he looked down at me sternly enough to rival the nurse. "Sleep."

The moment he said it, I realized that my eyelids did fell heavy. Cliché, isn't it?

The Technicolor of my dough people was starting to fade around the edges as sleep began calling to me again. With this fading, I was less distracted by the images, and I remembered that I was supposed to be concerned about something important. But I couldn't remember what that something important was. A little voice in the back of my head told me that this was bad, but by that time, I was already falling back into sleep.

The beeping heart monitor followed me into my dreams, as did the dough people.

And the blood.

* * *

_My rock garden was neat and orderly again, the sand combed and the wall rebuilt. It had been a mess after the vision. I believe the phrase "looking like a tornado blew through" would have applied. But during my first coma-like sleep, before waking up in the hospital, I'd been able to fix it all back up. Although, the wall wasn't brick anymore. It was stone. With steel reinforcements. Somehow, plain brick and mortar just didn't make me feel as secure as it used to. _

_I wandered around my garden, glad that I wasn't dreaming. Dreaming I couldn't control very well and I didn't want to deal with anymore weird shit for a while. The dough hallucinations and the murders had already filled up my weird shit quota for the rest of my life. _

_This place was a state of unconsciousness, but not really as state of sleep. Not exactly. I'd still wake up and feel as if I'd slept, but my mind is too active. I don't get visions via dreams often, and I've only had three, mind, but they always came when I was here in my garden. My garden was my sanctuary, the deepest and most secret part of my mind. My Self. I could think freely here, without distractions. Sort out the facts._

_Seating myself on a small stone bench near a _koi _pond, I rested my chin in my hands and thought hard. At least the drugs didn't mess with my head here. I'm pretty sure I would go insane. As it stands, I don't think I'll every be able to look at Play-Dough the same way ever again. Absently, I watched the orange, white, and black fish swimming around peacefully, and I turned over ever piece of evidence I had in my head, considering each one._

_The victims were all of the same appearance and close in years. Mid-teens, small/petite, dark hair and eyes, and pale skin were the common traits. This wasn't surprising, nor was it spectacularly important. All serial killers have vic profile. _

_Next, I've established that the killer has no scent. Nothing. Zero. Zilch. Which is highly unusual and downright strange. Not even a soap smell. However, that's not going to help us until we have a suspect._

_The posing of the victims suggests a ritual-like significance. Also typical of serial killers. Coupled with the letters that taunted the police and boasted his "talent", it shows a deep rooted craving for attention. He wants the spotlight, loves it. Throw that together with his so called "artistic passion" and his victim choice, I believe he's trying to convince a select group of people, or one person in peticular. This is uncommon. Most killers would rather hide the evidence so that they have the chance to kill again. They become addicted to the rush of the hunt and the kill. But this guy, he got high off of the attention. _

_The best piece of news is that he's getting reckless. Even among the terribleness of the fact he killed a little boy and kidnapped the boy's sister, the fact that he'd escalated was semi-positive. As the violence and impatience increase, he'll make more mistakes. More mistakes means that we will catch him and make him pay for what he's done. In spades._

_Really, what I was missing, and desperately need and want, is how he picks them, and where. If I could find that out, I could stake out his hunting ground and possibly trace him from there. That reminds me, I must get those lists of the victims' activities during the days before he took them. _

_Sighing quietly, I sank lower in the bench and shut my dream eyes. I needed to call Corvin, too, to tell him the latest developments. And I needed to start taking better care of myself. Nose bleeds and cardiac arrests were a bad sign, really bad. Especially for me. I've had nose bleeds before, during cases that were particularly violent and exhausting, but my heart stopping was in a completely new ball park. I tacked calling Fiona and the rest onto my to-do list. She had way more life-experience than Corvin, and she was gifted. She understood what was happening to me better than most._

_But I wish that there was someone else who understood. Someone closer than Louisiana._

_A soft wind blew through the garden, and I frowned. That wasn't supposed to happen. I hadn't allowed that. The breeze carried a subtle noise on its currents. The sound of wings. A very familiar sound of wings._

_But what was _he_ doing here?_

"_Get out," I said sternly. If I wasn't allowed in his domain, then he certainly wasn't welcome in mine. _

"_Where am I?" he asked, angry, "Why did you summon me here?"_

"_I did _not _bring you here," I protested. "You came without an invitation. Now leave."_

_The wind shifted uneasily, and the landscape became brighter. Puzzled, he answered me, "I cannot." I could practically taste his dislike for my walls. "You have trapped me here."_

"_If you can get in without asking," I said, "then you can leave as well. I shouldn't have to do anything."_

_Silence fell, but I could feel that he was not gone. His emotions still rode the air. After a few moments, he finally spoke. "You do not understand what you have done, do you, human?" Condescension had joined anger, mocking me._

_I bristled at his tone and emotions. How _dare_ he blame this on me? "I," I spat, "have done absolutely nothing. And since you've only ever given me weird answers that tell me nothing to my questions, you can just leave."_

"_I cannot leave until you provide me with an exit, woman," he snapped back. The wind whipped about tumultuously, and I could hear his wings rustle in annoyance. _

"_Fine," I growled back, "Just fine." Frustrated, I stood and strode over to my new stone wall, and yanked out a small stone. "Now get out."_

"_You cannot honestly expect that I would fit through that minuscule hole," he objected arrogantly. I could just imagine him tossing his head back as if he was royalty._

"_I can, and you will. Now get." I pointed at the hole like I was sending a small child to their room. "You're the _wind_ for God's sake. You can fit through the damn hole."_

_The force of his departure was monumental, throwing me against my wall. I was getting sick of his pushing me around like a toy. All that was left afterwards was a shower of white feathers. Automatically, I grabbed one that floated down right in front of my face. It was unbelievably soft. _

Beep beep.

_Not _again_, damn it. I hate that sound._

Beep beep.

"_All right," I muttered, "alright. I'm coming."_

Beep beep.

_I was called back to the world of reality.

* * *

_

The machine was still beeping its little mechanical heart out. I wanted to shoot it until it died. I also wanted to shoot the nurse, who I finally learned was Tonori-_san_, since she refused to let me sign my release papers. I did not need to be in the hospital, I needed to be out on the streets so I could catch the killer. I had to hurry. Had to save Miyo.

I'd been in the hospital, I'd been told, for two days. A big waste of time. I wouldn't have needed the second day if they hadn't doped me up on the cocktail of drugs they gave me. Damn doctors. Always convinced I could be "cured" with medications. Before I'd turned 11, I'd taken just about every drug produced that was meant to treat mental illness. Not fun. At all.

Tonori-_san_ finally left the room, and I began to sit up and detangle myself from the wires and tubes I was hooked up to. The first thing I did was shut off the heart monitor, and I breathed a sigh of pleasure as the irritating beeping ceased at long last. Then my IV came out, with me holding a whimper back by sheer will alone. I am not a fan of needles. A second IV was next, and then the small white pads attached to my temples went too. I flipped back the pristine white sheet covering me and swung my legs over the side of the hospital cot. I slid down to the floor and looked about for my clothes. I was not going to walk around in a backless paper hospital gown.

The only thing I found were my gloves, which were laid on the table next to the bed. I wiggled them onto my hands securely before anything else became imminently important.

Someone knocked on the door to them room.

Shit.

I quickly scrambled back onto the bed, pulling the sheet back up just in time for Hiwatari to waltz in. Jumping back out of the bed in a flash, I resisted the urge to grab him by the arm and instead begged, "Get me out of here. Now. Immediately. As in yesterday."

Tired blue eyes looked at me with slight apprehension, a frown beginning to tug at his lips. "Should you really be up? I was told by the doctor that—"

"Screw the doctor," I cut him off, "I'm fine. I'll be even better once you help me bust out of here."

His mouth twitched upward, barely. "You make it sound as if you are planning to escape from a prison."

"Close enough," I muttered. "Just tell me where my clothes went. I can do the rest from there. Oh, and my gun. I want that back too, of course."

Mutely, Hiwatari pointed towards the corner of the room, and I spotted a duffle bag, my duffle bag, that had been stuffed under a chair for convenience. I began to turn so I could go get the bag, but stopped when I remember that my gown had no back. I may be comfortable with my body, but I've still got boundaries. So, I gave Hiwatari a look, and then nodded pointedly at the duffle. Eyebrows raised, he just looked at me.

I said, "The gown is backless."

Comprehension dawned in his eyes, and he retrieved my bag for me and, without a word, left the room. Like I said before, the guy was polite. Points for him.

I put on the clothes I found in the bag. Underwear, bra, socks, jeans, a dark blue T-shirt, and my sneakers. The last things in my bag that I donned were my cell phone, belt, holster, and gun. My Berretta was fully loaded, all eight rounds. Having it with me made me feel infinitely better. I tucked the phone into my pocket for later use.

I walked over to the door and opened it, finding Hiwatari and Yamakawa waiting for me. Slinging my now empty duffle over my shoulder, I followed them down the disinfectant-scented hallway. We took an elevator down to the ground floor, and I went up to the front desk and asked for my release papers.

Of course, there had to be time-consuming drama attached. Tonori-_san_, followed by a man I assumed was my doctor, made a huge fuss about how I shouldn't be doing this. This led to me finally losing my temper. I called them idiots, quacks, and worse things. I told them that if they wanted another girl to be murdered, then fine, they could keep me locked up in the bloody hospital. No one had anything good to argue with that, so I was finally able to walk out unmolested. Hiwatari, looking mildly disapproving, and Yamakawa, who appeared shocked that I'd started screaming at medical professionals, followed me.

Yamakawa drove while Hiwatari and I rode in the backseat. I turned to Hiwatari, noting the dark circles bruising the fair skin under his eyes.

"Tell me everything."

oOo

He was still detailing what had been happening when we arrived at the station. So far, he'd told me about Miyo and Kiyoshi, surname Chigusa. Miyo was fifteen, Kiyoshi had been nine. The wound that had killed young Kiyoshi was a clean and single stroke of the knife, like I'd first thought. Very practiced. Hiwatari had been telling me about the coroner reports and the forensic analysis of the room. The killer's ingress had been the back door, which had been crudely forced open.

We walked into chaos, with people running around frantically, and the phones ringing nonstop. The news of the murders had finally reached the public, and since then the response had been almost violent. People were scared, and angry. The department was having a hard time with public relations and with the press. They were under tough scrutiny, the likes of which they had never known before.

Hiwatari handed me a pile of papers, copies of the reports he'd been summarizing for me from memory and notes in his notebook once we made it to the large briefing room. I briefly scanned the file, but I didn't need to. I already knew what had happen. Intimately.

Shutting the manila folder gently, I rubbed my face and thought hard. Putting things in order, prioritizing. "I need that list of movements for the previous victims," I requested, "and that sketch artist I asked about when I first touched the victims. And then…"

"Then what?" Hiwatari asked.

"It's a long shot, but I want to take a look at the dump sites of the other two victims. I think that the ring we found in that well is connected to the reason why Chisato was dumped there. To confirm that, we need to find out if there are other items out there."

He nodded slowly. Almost reluctantly. I knew he knew something about that ring, something that he wasn't willing to share. But I also knew he wouldn't keep it a secret if it was important to the case. I trusted him.

"But first, I need to stop by my room at the inn and pick up a few things. And I need to make a couple phone calls," I added quietly. "Something isn't right, and I need some more expert advice."

"Nothing about this is right," he said.

"No," I replied, wanting to touch his hand or shoulder just to extent the comfort only another human being could provide in times like this, "It never is."

I pulled out my cell phone and dialed Corvin.

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(A.N.) Okay. Now. REVIEW YOU BASTARDS! ... Sorry. Stressful week. . Ignore my evilness this time around. I'll try and update soon!


	14. Chapter 13

Disclaimer: Laugh it up, fuzz ball.

Touch

Chapter 13

(A.N.) Sorry for the long wait! I've had shit loads of worthless school sucking up all of my time. I tried to make this chapter serious to balance out the complete randomness of the last one (but admit it, you loved the dough people, too). Um, thanks to my beta for the chapter, Serpent of Slytherin, and to my muses, the Sara(h)s (a.k.a. Cranberry Cocktail and Spawn of Satan). And an even bigger thanks to all of you that have been reading, and a special one to all those who are reviewing. And now that all that junk is out of the way, enjoy the chapter!

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"_You WHAT?!" _Corvin demanded. _"I told you not to do this to yourself, Cassandra. The last time was bad enough. No one wants to go through that aga—"_

"I won't let it get that bad, sir," I assured him, cutting him off.

"_You say that after every time you are hospitalized, every case. If you end up in the hospital again because you've pushed too hard, I will pull you out of there, Cassandra. I mean it. You are too valuable to the Bureau, to the team."_

"I'll be fine," I insisted. I didn't want to think about all those other times, all those other hospital visits, and all those times when I'd had to rebuild my garden. It's a strange feeling when your wall shatters, when all of a sudden you find that all the protection that you had once possessed was gone. Remembering all those times when it had broken would make me lose my nerve. "I'll try. Really. I will. Just let me work through it."

He was silent for a few moments, and I knew that he was rubbing his chin slowly and that his eyes would be closed tight with frustration. I usually provoked such a response from him in conversations like this.

"_What do you plan to do at this point in the investigation?" _he finally asked, sighing in resignation.

"Well, I and Hiwatari are going to go and check out the other dump sites. You remember that ring I told you about? I just know that it has to be connected to why he picked those places to leave their bodies. I'm sure that there a similar items near all of the scenes," I explained hurriedly.

Please don't ask, please don't ask, please don't—

"_You're going to touch them aren't you?"_

Damn it. He asked. Could I lie?

Maybe.

"N—" No. I couldn't. Damn. "Yes," I answered, putting all of my stubbornness into the word. "It's the only way to get the information that I need."

Corvin sighed. _"Fine. Just don't repeat your last case. Miss O'Shannon barely managed to bring you back."_

"I know." That sick feeling in my stomach was starting to churn about, making me feel weak and shaky. Nearly dying can do that to a person. I waited in silence for a few minutes, and when Corvin didn't say anything else, I moved onto another to topic. "Sir? Could you send me some stuff?"

"What kind of stuff?" he asked suspiciously.

"Well, I need a new pair of leather gloves, so could someone…?" I left the end open.

"_I'll send Renehan. He enjoys going to those types of places_." He sounded disgusted with his subordinate, but he was right. Renehan was a letch. A big letch.

"Just tell him nothing kinky," I reminded him, "I don't want any of those weird ones with spikes and chains. I'm definitely not into that scene. At least, not that I know of."

"_And while that is disturbingly personal, it is almost comforting. Almost. I'll send Renehan with specific instructions."_

Hiwatari walked into the room as I said, "Also tell him that if he gets anything extra that I don't need, I don't want to see or hear about. If he does that again, I'm turning him in for sexual harassment of a minor."

Hiwatari raised his eye brows questioningly.

I ignored him. If I explained, I'd blush. It was that bad of an experience.

"_I'll give him _very_ specific orders. Anything else?"_

"More Advil and maybe some Excedrin."

I heard the scribbling of a pen. _"That it?"_

"A miracle?"

"_Sorry, Cassandra. I'm fresh out."_

Damn. "Well, thanks anyway. I'll give you a call later when there are developments. Send those things as soon as humanly possible."

"_I mean it, Cassandra. Don't do this to yourself again. That is a direct order."_

"I won't."

Without saying goodbye, Corvin hung up and I was left staring absently at a whiteboard covered in notes about the murders and listening to the flat sound of the dial tone. I flipped the phone closed with a sharp flick of my wrist and turned to Hiwatari.

"What was that about?" he asked.

"Nothing," I replied a little too quickly to be convincing. "Is Yamakawa ready?"

"_Hai_."

"Wonderful," I murmured, and then I began to dial another number, making sure that my cell was hooked into a power source so that it wouldn't die on me. "We can leave after I finish this call?"

He seated himself, folding his slim body into one of the huge swivel chairs the room. I took that as a yes. Listening to the phone ringing, I added, "It won't take long."

A woman picked up on the fourth ring and greeted me in a warm Southern accent, _"Hello?"_

"Fiona? It's Cassie. I need to talk to you," I said. I was never much for congenial small talk. Poor Grandmother hates that about me too.

"_Oh mercy!"_ she exclaimed, her tone changing to one of concern. _"Wha' is it now? Are you workin' already, sugar?" _There was an edge to words in that.

"Uh, well… Yeah, I am," I said meekly. To think that a little old lady could chastise me so thoroughly, and she's not even here!

"_Cassandra Renee Simon, Aih told you ta keep it easy!" _she half-shouted through the phone. I held it away from my ear, wincing. Damn, she could do that way too well. I wanted to ground myself in only a way that her saying my first, middle, and last names as one word could make me want to do.

Hiwatari commented, "You're middle name is Renee?" I think he was making fun of me. Most people do when they hear my full name. Which I don't understand, by the way. What's so funny about "Renee"?

"Shut up," I muttered, glaring at him.

"_Aih mos' certainly will nawt!"_

Oh fuck. "I wasn't talking to you, Fiona."

"_Then who ah you talkin' to?" _she demanded. Her voice rang with indignation.

I was still glaring at Hiwatari. "My partner."

He held up a spread sheet filled with letters and numbers, waving it slightly, and then made a "wrap it up" motion with his free hand.

"I have to go in a couple seconds. Fiona? Can you organize one your 'meetings' tonight? Or…Well, would you be willing to do it during the afternoon? It'll be nighttime here, then."

Changing her tone back to her more genteel cadence, she asked, _"Wha' time were you thinking', sugar?"_

"For you? Would around two in the afternoon be alright?"

Hiwatari was making more insistent gestures, glaring.

"_Le' meh call the others an' find out. Aihm assumin' you want them there."_

"Yeah, that would be good."

"_Then Aihl ge' as many as pos'ble to come. Take care, sugar. An' take it easy!"_

"I will. I promise."

"_You bet your pretty lit'l butt you prahmise," _she threatened. _"Aihl see you tonight, Cassie."_

"Bye, Fiona. Thanks."

We hung up, and then I turned to Hiwatari. Irritated, he held up the spread sheets again and said, "I found something interesting." He began laying the papers out in a neat, orderly line on the table. At the top of each one, there was a name written in _hiragana_ and in English. I'm assuming that the English was added for my benefit.

The first sheet had Numai Chisato's name written on top, followed by the number "1". Dates and places were set up in corresponding columns, and it took me a minute to figure out what all the information was supposed to mean. It was a "chart of movements", a list of all the places that the victim had gone and the dates when she had gone to those places. A row with a place and date was highlighted on each paper, bright yellow jumping off the white paper. I tried to read the kanji that had been typed neatly into the place columns, but I ended up turning to Hiwatari in helplessness. Why would you invent such complicated symbols for simple stuff? It's completely impractical.

Tapping the row on the second sheet, Yahagi Kayoko's, Hiwatari explained, "The Art Museum. Every single one of the girls, including Chigusa, visited the Museum around a week before she was taken. He must pick a new girl only hours after he dumps the other."

My heart was thudding in my chest, and there was a tingling in my body that was screaming at me to get a move on. I opened my mouth to ask if he had already send officers to the Museum for security camera tapes and witness statements, but Hiwatari anticipated my question, one step ahead, and cut me off, "I've already sent officers to the Museum. We are going to investigate the places where he left them more thoroughly."

I didn't argue.

oOo

It was a tensely silent drive to where the killer had displayed Numai Chisato's body. Yamakawa, usually the relaxed one, was anxiously tapping his fingers on the steering wheel while he drove, while Hiwatari and I were having a brainstorm session. We went over everything from the beginning. And I mean everything. Which, of course, led to disagreements. Mostly about why he wouldn't disclose more facts about the sapphire ring we'd found at the third site.

I was fingering the small piece of jewelry when we pulled up to the beginning of the coast. It didn't give off such strong energy anymore, so I figured it was safe to touchit with my gloves on. Getting out of the car, we walked over the rocky beach for about a mile, following the curve of the shore until we came to the cove. It was even more secluded than the crime scene photos had suggested. It was almost completely surrounded by worn and craggy rocks and water. The sea swirled dangerously into the sand, crashing through the large stones in the water and foaming white. Anyone trying to swim in that mess would either get caught bye a freakishly strong rip tide or be tossed like a rag doll into the rocks. No matter which one, the swimmer would die. No question.

Fluttering in the wind, the remnants of the crime scene tape whipped at us like grasping fingers. The sun was shining brightly, though the atmosphere of the place reminded me of every horror movie with a sea-side setting.

We climbed and jumped our way over the rocks to reach the actual sandy part of the cove. Yamakawa and I had some difficulty with balancing effectively, so we were trying to help each other not to fall and break something. I even broke my no touching the rest of humanity rule to catch the officer by the arm when he over-shot a jump across a large gape between two four-foot tall boulders to stop him from falling off the other side. And while we struggled, Hiwatari, absurdly graceful bastard that he is, just kept going, and then had the gall to order us to hurry up while he wiped the sea spray off his glasses.

And I think he was laughing at us.

Evil, evil man that he is.

But we'll leave that for later.

Anyway, me and Yamakawa managed to make out perilous journey without injuring ourselves seriously. I did have some scraps on my right knee from a fall, and my jeans were torn at the same knee, but otherwise I was just fine. Yamakawa was able to escape with some bruises and a tiny cut on his hand from where a crab hand pinched him when he'd accidentally surprised it on its ledge of rock. After extracting the crab from his flesh, Yamakawa asked if we could go and have seafood when were finished here. Something about crab sushi and boiled crab legs. I think he was harboring a grudge.

We spread out and combed the cove carefully in a simple grid pattern, spending extra time where the body had been resting.

Nothing.

We then moved to going over the tall rock formation, a cliff almost, that backed the cove. Solid stone answered my probing fingers by yielding nothing relevant. Well, at least until Hiwatari shouted that he'd found what we were looking for. I ran over and found him examining what looked like ordinary fissures in the stone. He traced them lightly for a minute with his finger, lips moving silently. Then he flattened his palm against the cracks and pushed.

The cliff-side swung open, and Yamakawa, who had come up behind me without my realizing it, scared the shit out of me when he jumped in surprise. The newly revealed doorway was dark, completely dark. No light at the end of the tunnel. Literally. Motioning us to follow, Hiwatari pulled out a flashlight and led us through. I found out the hard way that there were steps. The very hard way. So now, both my knees were bruised, and one was bleeding. Wonderful.

Like the secret room in the well, the stairway was wet, dripping with condensed moisture. And it was freezing since the air hadn't been warmed by the sun for what I guessed to be a couple decades, at the very least. The rocks were slimy with mold that had somehow managed to survive in the cold temperatures, and the path was rough and uneven.

Death hovered everywhere around me, buzzing in my ears. "There's death here," I announced softly. Both men looked at me intently, Yamakawa wary and Hiwatari intent. "It's old," I elaborated, "But still here, still fresh, or just strong, enough for me to pick up. Pain and terror made their home here many years ago, many times." I wrapped my arms around myself, hugging my chest, and shivered. It wasn't because of the cold.

Hiwatari nodded in understanding, and continued to lead us downward.

It took us a long while to reach the bottom, which was muddy and riddled with hard objects both large and small of irregular shapes. Hiwatari stopped and crouched down, shining his light across the ground. The blank eye sockets of human skull stared back. "Search the rest of the area," Hiwatari said, carefully prying the skull from its prison. It was yellow with age. And small. I was sure it belonged to someone in their adolescence or early teens.

Yamakawa gave me an extra flashlight, a blue one, and switched on his own yellow one. All the hard objects we'd been feeling under our feet were bones. Femurs, skulls, vertebrae, pelvic bones… The list went on and on. They stuck up from the floor in a poor imitation of trees and shrubs, a macabre spectacle. It was the one of the most depressing, and horrifyingly still, things I'd ever seen before in my life, and I've seen some terrible things. Just the fact that the bones seemed so scattered, bodies tossed away with no regard, no respect. It was just…saddening.

"We need to call the forensic team in and have them process this," I said, breaking the silence. "Have them identify all these remains." Remains. That was the word, the only word, I could use for the bones. It's all they really were. Remnants. Fragments.

"You may want to take a look at this first, _Tantei_, Commander," Yamakawa called from way in front of me. Sliding on a pair of latex gloves with a snap, he knelt down and pulled a pen from inside his jacket, using it lightly prod at the ribcage resting on the damp earth. Hiwatari and I joined him.

The ribcage was the most complete set of bones I'd seen so far, including the pelvic bone and most of the torso and spine. It was also the only remains that had anything reminiscent of clothing. Yamakawa gently moved the disintegrating material aside revealing the browning bones underneath. "Look," he instructed, the pen pointing at the small and numerous nicks in the ribs.

Hiwatari knelt down beside the officer and took a closer look, examining them closely. Almost too closely. It just barely escaped creepy. I stayed standing, knowing that I probably would get goose bumps if I got any closer to the skeleton. I don't know why it gave me such a bad feeling in my stomach, but it did. Instinct.

"A bladed weapon," Hiwatari stated matter-of-factly, pointing at the nicks, "Sharp, leaving a large groove in the bone, and un-serrated. There are over twenty marks, and probably even more actual stab wounds were the cause of death. The skeleton is female, by the way. Probably about five foot four inches," he glanced up at me, "Sound familiar."

Nodding, I murmured, "Our killer. This is one of his old victims. One he never displayed. Which means…" I looked around all the other bones, feeling the gorge rise in my throat.

"So it would seem, though I did find some animal bones down here as well," Hiwatari stated, standing again. "Mostly small creatures. Cats, dogs, birds and the like."

"One of the first signs of a serial killer is that, when they're young, they torture and kill animals," I remined him absently, feeling chills crawl up and down my spine. All the empty eye holes staring at us morbidly were starting to get to me. That, and the feelings I was picking up from the room.

Yamakawa stood and brushed off the legs of his pants. "It's a graveyard," he remarked sadly, "and unmarked. Their spirits must wander without the death rites preformed on their burial grounds."

"No," I disagreed, pointing at a formation of stone near the back area of the chamber, "this isn't a graveyard."

Hiwatari was thinking along the same lines as I was. "I agree."

"Then what is it?" Yamakawa asked, following my pointed finger.

Blue eyes flashing, Hiwatari began walking towards the altar, responding, "A temple."

At the same time, I said, "A practice room."

"_Kami-sama_," the officer breathed, following his commander. I went at his heels, not wishing to see the altar up close, but at the same time not being able to stay away.

"God has nothing to do with it," I told Yamakawa.

"Evil does," Hiwatari added.

The altar was made of the same stone as the walls, and was, curiously, untouched by the slime and mud that was over almost everything else. Designs had been etched on its surface and, when light was shone on it, the dark rust colored stains that covered it were revealed. Barely, I could still detect the stale, coppery odor of the blood. I noticed that Hiwatari had been about to touch the designs, but stopped after a glance at Yamakawa and I. Great. More secrets.

It was time I cracked some of Hiwatari's secrets open.

"Yamakawa," I said with authority, "go back to the car and bring the cameras with you. And some bigger lights. Also, call the station and get the forensic team out here pronto. Hiwatari and I will wait here until you come back and poke around a little."

"_Demo…_" he began to protest.

"No buts," I commanded, "_Itte_ _kudasai._"

With a quick look at Hiwatari and Hiwatari's consenting nod, Yamakawa not quite, but almost, sprinted out of the cave.

"I'm assuming," Hiwatari said dryly, "that you have something to discuss with me since you not so subtlety got rid of Yamakawa."

"That obvious?"

"That and more."

"I'll work on that," I said casually. "So, what do you make of it? And don't you dare say you don't know. I saw how you looked at it. You _know_ something."

Face stoic and eyes hard, he turned his gaze back down to the table. "It's a circle of power, fed by blood. Our killer likes to dabble in the occult."

"And why didn't you want to say that before."

"It's not any of your business."

I ground my teeth together. "Fine. Just fine. Be that way. God, you irritate me sometimes," I growled. With sharp, abrupt movements, I stripped off my white cotton gloves angrily.

"What do you think you're doing?" Hiwatari asked darkly, "I don't suppose you remember what happened the last time?"

"Well enough, but if you aren't going to be helpful, then there is only one way I'm going to be getting anything useful out of this stone. Besides, this is what I'm here to do. It's my job." Didn't he get it? Didn't _anybody_ get it? Without this job, then I would go crazy. I'd sit in a dark room all day and never go outside, afraid. That's what I'd be doing right now if I hadn't joined Corvin's unit. Out of my mind, give-me-a-straightjacket insane. If I ever got taken off active duty, I'd return to being the mess I was before.

Before any more protests left his mouth, I pressed my bare palm against the top of the altar, right on top of a blood stain.

**Oh gods, spirits, ancestors, ANYBODY! HELP ME!**

**I fight my bonds, the ones that bind me to the table. Can't move, can't speak. HELP! Can't get away.**

**He is leaning over me again, and his dark eyes flash with evil. Evil of the purest bowls of hell. **

"**Little swan, little swan," he sings joyously, "don't fight so hard. You are about to be transformed into something beautiful, into art!" He caresses the knife over and over like it is his lover.**

**I cry, tears swell and fall, but I do not feel them. I feel so little now. Nothing but fear.**

**He pulls the gag out of my mouth, and I scream. "HELP ME!" I screech. It echoes off the walls, these unforgiving stone walls. The dead bodies of his other captives watch with open eyes, blank witnesses. "SOMEBODY PLEASE!"**

**The Hikari backhands me carelessly and my head strikes the stone table. Then, he raises the knife. "In the Hikari name," he whispers reverently, "grant to me my inspiration, grant me power to create my art. Give me the talent to show her I am worthy, that I am special."**

"**NO!" I know what happens! I know what happens! I saw him do it! All the others! Women and girls! Sacrifices and practices! "YOU MONSTER!" I scream. "MONSTER!"**

**Light, gold and red, shine from the stone beneath me. The silver knife flashes.**

"**NO!"**

**Pain erupts in my body, blood flows. I burn!**

**And the Hikari laughs triumphantly.**

I shrieked in terror and threw myself away from the altar. "Stopitstopitstopit! No more!" My yell ended in a fit of coughing, blood dribbling from between my lips with each hack. "Gross," I groaned between coughs. Stomach muscles contracting, I felt the huge tears in my flesh begin to close.

Like he had back at the Chigusa residence, Hiwatari draped his jacket around my shoulders and used it to keep his skin from touching mine while he helped me steady myself. "Is my nose bleeding?" I managed to gasp out, needing three tries to finally achieve it.

"_Iie_," he answered, and then he ordered, "_Suwatte_."

My legs needed no further urging, buckling underneath me in no time flat. Lingering emotions tangled with my own. "He used them as sacrifices. For power, for talent, f—for inspiration," I stammered, feeling cold all the way through, "Gold and red lights. The dead bodies on the floor. He made her watch. He made her watch!"

"Gold light?" Hiwatari murmured, sounding as if his worst suspicions had been confirmed.

"I saw him!" I rambled on, "He was covered with blood, smelled of it. Dark eyes, evil eyes."

Hiwatari shook me violently, "Take a deep breath, _Simon-san_." He sounded concerned.

Barely hearing him, I kept speaking rapidly. "Silver knife, the same one. Killed them all with the same knife. Silver and gold. Gold light. Hikari light."

He stiffened behind me. "What did you say?"

"Hikari light, gold. Blood, red. Cold, dead, so many cold and dead eyes."

"What about the Hikaris?" Hiwatari half-shouted, shaking me again.

"Monster," I whispered, "Monster with evil eyes. Evil eyes with gold light. Hikari light." For some reason, that seemed important. She thought it was important.

"Tell me!" Pain shot through my arms, he was gripping them so hard.

The pain anchored me, for a moment, and I knew what he was asking. "She called him the Hikari."

Gold light flashed, with what sounded like a gasp of pain reaching my ears at the same time, and my irrational fear returned. I tried to ride it, to control it better, and I succeeded. I could think, and I stopped rambling. My own words were free to leave my lips. That other woman's emotions drained away, leaving me feeling just as cold as before. But I was myself again. That was all that mattered.

I turned around, against the resistance of Hiwatari's restraining hands, to try and look at him to tell it was safe to let go of me now. However, I got the shock of my life when the eyes I met were not the sapphire blue I expected, but instead the bright and clear gold of a Spanish doubloon.

White wings arched from behind his shoulders, and his face was set in angry lines.

"What have you done?" Krad asked menacingly.

Good question. Wish I knew the answer.

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(A.N.) Please review! I'll give you cookies! I swear! Tell me what you thought of the chapters! 


	15. Chapter 14

Disclaimer: Never tell me the odds!

Touch

Chapter 14

(A.N.) People reviewed! Yay! (hands out cookies) Ahem, anyway, chapter. Right. Um...thanks for the reveiews (still hand ing out cookies), and for all the other readers. Thanks to all my muses and my betas. Love! Now, enjoy the chapter!

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This is bad.

Really, _really_ bad.

Throwing my weight backwards, I tried to break Krad's grip on my shoulders, and failed. Again. He continued to scowl down at me, eyes practically emitting sparks. I could already feel the bruises forming under his hands, a deep ache spreading through my shoulders and neck with sharp shots of pain pulsating from where he was crushing my shoulders. He dug his fingers into my flesh, forcing a pain strangled gasp from my throat.

"Let go," I ground out from between my clenched teeth.

What the hell happened to Hiwatari? One minute he was here, and then the next he wasn't. Krad was. What the hell is going on!?

"What are you doing here, human?" the winged man growled, hauling me to my feet. He readjusted his hold on me, grabbing my upper arms now.

It still bloody hurt.

"Trying to find a fucking clue. It happens to be my job, asshole," I growled back. Subtly, I reached behind my back and closed my fingers around the butt of my Berretta. "How the hell did you get here?" I asked, carefully sliding the weapon out of its concealed holster. Don't notice. _Please_ don't notice.

"I took advantage of an opportune moment."

I couldn't help myself. "Who do you think you are? Fucking Johnny Depp?"

Puzzlement knit his gold eyebrows together. "Who is Johnny Depp?"

I sighed. "Never mind."

Waves of annoyance and anger rolled off Krad thickly, distracting my mind. Concentrating hard on keeping his emotions out, I shoved the gun into his stomach, finger over the trigger. "Let. Go," I ordered again. "I swear to God, I'll pull this trigger."

He laughed. The fucking sadist laughed. "No, you will not."

"If you think I won't shoot you, you crazy bastard, you are—"

"Me? Oh no, I think you'd shoot _me_. You will _not_, however," he smiled maliciously, "shoot my Hikari."

"What the fuck are you talking about?" I demanded. Hikari? The killer? I was seriously confused. Feeling my finger beginning to cramp, I eased off the trigger. It wouldn't do to shoot him accidentally. That's definitely frowned upon.

Pulling me forward, he dug my gun into his abdomen on purpose, still smiling. "Have you really not realized it yet, human? Could it be that you are truly that unintelligent?"

It was getting harder and harder to focus as his emotions overpowered me. Touching always enhances my ability, sometimes even to the point where I can barely keep myself from drowning. "Stop toying with me," I said, withdrawing my gun a little. I'm not a fan of causing pain unless it's absolutely necessary. I am, after all, an empath. And I wasn't about to shoot an insane person. They can't help being completely off their rocker.

"I suppose it would be hard for someone such as you to comprehend without significant aid," Krad said, "But, then again, you have been with him for a while now, working side-by-side."

"You can't be serious," I blurted, shocked. He can't possibly mean that Hiwatari… Or was it Hikari?

"Why not?" Krad inquired, a mocking edge to his voice, "It isn't that hard to understand, and you yourself are not lacking in experience with what is at times unexplainable."

Examining his feelings thoroughly, I found no hint that he was lying. None at all. Shit.

"But the killer is…" I didn't finish my thought. Was _Hiwatari_ the killer? Surely not. He just didn't_ feel_ like that. And he just…just…

"Satoshi-_sama_ is not the murderer, though he is a Hikari." He seemed offended that I would even consider it. "He is too soft for something such as this," he stated, indicating with a nod to the altar and its bloodstains. His grip on my arms had eased during his explanation, but I didn't move. I didn't want him to realize that I was practically free. Besides, he seemed less volatile when he talked about Hiwatari, though his eyes still held a very…aggressive glint. Opening my walls just a little, I found that the feelings I had interpreted as anger and such were really covering up intense possessiveness.

It was almost…sweet…in a psychotic kind of way.

Aloud, I heard myself sigh in relief. "Well, that's good to know. But how..?"

Krad laughed in his particularly malevolent way. He must like to do that. "I'll let that mystery stay, girl." He shoved me into the stone wall with enough force to bruise, but not enough to actually injure. It struck me as rather…half-hearted. Limply, I let my hand, gun and all, dangle at my side, allowing Hiwatari's jacket to slide off me onto the floor. I don't think I'll need to shoot him. Krad seemed to have dismissed me, walking around the altar and muttering. His eyes moved around restlessly, taking everything in, and his stride was predatory. Gently, he trailed his long fingers over the stone table's surface.

"Do you know what he did here?" I asked the blond, moving closer to the table once more. Re-holstering my gun, I collected my gloves off the ground on the way and began to tug them on.

Gold light shone from his hands as he swept them over the stone. Hikari light. Shivering involuntarily, I watched Krad intently, pausing in my re-gloving. He wouldn't surprise me again. No one does.

Usually.

The angel, note the sarcasm, frowned, and did it prettily might I add. "This is incorrect. The glyphs, the circles… Completely wrong."

Okay. Right. Of course. Because that's what everyone thinks when they approach a human-sacrificial altar. "What do you mean?"

Instead of answering, Krad spoke quietly in a language that sounded very much like German. How does an insane supernatural entity from Japan learn German? Red light glowed faintly from the symbols carved in the rock, mingling with the gold from Krad's hands.

He's right. Wrong. It's wrong.

My breath hitched in my throat, and I dropped my remaining glove. "Stop." He didn't seem to hear me. "Stop!" I said louder. Still not responding, Krad continued to spread golden light over the tainted stone, mixing it with the blood colored glow.

It was sickening.

"Stop it!" I yelled, swinging my gloved arm and knocking both his hands away from the stone. A jolt ran up the arm like lighting, and a familiar shock hit my system. Memory. I remember this. That woman had experienced this with her dying breath.

Quick as whip, Krad grabbed my arm and pulled so that I was half-lying on the altar, and hissed, "Idiot human! What's wrong with you!?"

I was hyperventilating, shaking so badly that the world vibrated in front of my eyes. "Let it be. It's evil. You shouldn't mess with evil." You learn that eventually. If you don't have to poke at it, leave evil stuff alone. It's a very good rule. "It shouldn't be touched." I took a deep breath. "And besides, it'll contaminate evidence." Yeah. There we go, a rational thought. Always a good thing.

Squeezing my wrist painfully, he continued to pull, dragging me forward. Panic welled up inside of me. I don't want to be on this thing. "Don't!" I objected, trying to scramble off the table. I didn't want to be in that position. So many women had died there.

In reply, Krad yanked so hard that I completely bypassed the table and crashed into him. His wings flared out from his body to counter-balance my weight as he spun me around and locked my arm behind my back. His free hand fastened its self around my neck. I took the hint and held still, quietly. At least it was my gloved hand that he'd trapped. My gun, pressed between our bodies, dug into my back uncomfortably. I didn't move.

How do I manage to get into situations like this?

And _why_ must he always choke me?

"You try my patience, girl," he said quietly in my ear. Which was quite a feat since he had to be around six foot one. "Keep interfering and, despite Satoshi-_sama_'s objections, I will dispose of you. Permanently." He put pressure on my windpipe, forcing it to all but shut and cutting off most of my air supply.

He wasn't kidding.

It was getting harder to breathe.

"Hiwatari," I gasped faintly, "get your ass back here now." The world was getting fuzzy around the edges. There was no help for it. Clenching my fist, I attempted to drive my free elbow back into his gut, but I had waited too long. I didn't even get my arm up an inch. "Hiwatari…get…back…"

No air! Can't breathe!

My body jerked feebly. Barely, I felt Krad's hand spasm slightly as he swore.

And then I didn't feel anything at all.

oOo

Waking up was an unpleasant experience. Especially since I was being shaken forcefully. It was jarring my entire body, making my baby-migraine worse. I could tell it was going to be one of my more painful ones. Damn it. I was running out of Advil.

"Simon-_san_? _Okite_! _Okite kudasai_!"

I moaned inarticulately in response, keeping my eyes closed. My throat was throbbing incessantly, an uncomfortable feeling. Hell, my entire body was sore. Even my pinkie toe, I suspect. However, I couldn't separate all the dull agony into separate components since everything felt just like a giant bruise.

"_Okite_!" Hands were clasped on my shoulders, which were encased in a heavy, soft fabric, pushing against bruises I could already feel spreading under my skin. Changing drastically from a muted ache to sharp jabs of agony running through my body, the hands continued to shake me urgently.

Groggily, I forced my eyes open and winced when the light of a flashlight flooded my vision. "Fuck…" I groaned and looked up at the owner of the offending hands. "You owe me one hell of an apology, Hiwatari, you multi-personality jerk." My voice was hoarse and scratchy. Gee, wonder why? "Half your soul and a really good explanation would be a good start."

He flinched slightly and replied, "I'm afraid the first part of that request is rather impossible." He swept a weary, guarded gaze over my body and continued, "Can you sit up?"

Stomach churning at the thought, I nodded and proceed to fight my way into a sitting position that was more Hiwatari holding me up than anything else. "Ow." I muttered and cursed some more under my breath, wishing desperately for a painkiller. Any painkiller. I'd even take a Tylenol, damn useless things that they are. The world was spinning in an unnatural way, sliding back and forth until it finally settled back to its rightful place: still. "Why does he always have to choke me?"

Shuttered eyes looked down at me for a minute, flickering uneasily. "I don't know, but he does have a suspicious fascination with your throat."

…

I blinked a few times. "That was more than I needed to know."

Silence stretched between us, awkward and long. What should I say? Hey, you know your psychotic alter-ego? Yeah, he deserves to be left in one of the darkest pits of hell. Or maybe we could talk about the weather. You can't fail with small talk about the weather. Except when it's exceptionally good. Have you ever noticed that? Bad weather leads to a longer conversation. I looked up at Hiwatari and decided that, in this case, the weather would be far too cheesy as a topic-changer. Everything has an exception, I guess.

Instead, I requested, "Could you help me stand up? I'd try it on my own but I don't think my legs got the message to wake up."

"What about..?" He nodded to my hands, one of which was still not covered.

"I'm not _that_ stubborn," I denied, "In spite of my, ah, abilities, I don't try and do stupid things to avoid using them. Sitting here, in the wet dirt, next to someone's skull, would be stupid if I had the option having you help me stand." Jeez, do I really come across as that mulish?

Hiwatari was giving me a look. A very skeptical look.

Shit. I guess I do.

"_Onegaishimasu_?" I pleaded.

He shifted so that he was kneeling in front of me, pushed aside the jacket he'd re-draped over me, and wrapped his fingers around my lower arm, just below my elbow. Carefully, he pulled me up with him as he stood. The world began swimming again.

Wait a minute.

…

There definitely shouldn't be two Hiwataris.

"Maybe this wasn't such a good idea," I muttered, squinting. When nothing settled back into place, I gave up and shut my eyes tightly, trying to breathe deeply and evenly. Inhale, exhale. Inhale, exhale…

A quiet murmur interrupted my mantra, but I didn't catch it. Nothing but white noise.

"What?" I opened my eyes.

Expressionless, Hiwatari repeated, "_Gomen nasai._"

'_Gomen_'? What does '_gomen_'mean? I racked my brain quickly. Sluggishly responding, my memory finally produced the answer.

"It's okay." I really wanted to say that he didn't need to apologize, but since I actually had already said he _did_… Insert foot in mouth here.

Keeping a light grip on my arms, Hiwatari started to lead me towards the stairs, but I balked. We can't leave yet. We didn't have anything useful yet. "We need to finish looking around."

"Are you even capable of standing?" he countered.

"That," I retorted, "is a good point. Which means it would be absolute lunacy for me to try and climb stairs. Slippery stairs at that. Might as well stay here and continue investigating." Ha. Let's see him get around that one.

He glared at me for a minute, and then did something that I couldn't follow that landed me, his coat and all, being carried bridal style. "The fuck!?" I yelped, surprised, "Put me down right now!"

How had he managed this!?

"Hiwatari! I demand you put me down right now!"

My continued vocalizations went unheeded as he climbed up the stairs fluidly. Bastard. The only response I managed to get out of him was "_Baka na onna_."

"Shouldn't you be tired or something?" I growled petulantly. "You know? That whole, let's change into a completely different being thing? The being I _still_ suspect of being the Devil?"

Face set in concentration, he ignored me beautifully.

"If you don't put me down, I'll…" What was I currently capable of doing? Then I noticed his glasses. Ah hah! "I'll take your glasses or something and then you'll slip and fall and then we will both be all bruised." Childish? Yes. Effective?

"Go ahead. I don't need them anyway."

No. Fuck.

Grumbling, I stated, "I hate you." Still climbing, he didn't answer or twitch or show any other normal signs of life. Well, excepts for the climbing bit, but you know what I mean. "Put me down!" I demanded again, kicking my legs for added effect.

The extra movement threw him off-balance, which I had not intended, and he stumbled forward. Yelping, I instinctively grabbed hold of his shoulders. When he'd stopped wobbling, I glared some more and said, "You know, if you're going to do this, against my will, then you should at least try not to kill us both. Just a thought."

"You are being more sarcastic than usual," he commented dryly, resuming the climb up the slippery stairs.

Jerk. "Life happens. Get a helmet."

Almost to the top. The light levels were changing, becoming brighter.

"Has anyone ever told you that you are dangerously close to being an unpleasant person to be around?" Hiwatari asked dryly. He walked sideways through the cliff opening so I didn't get a new wound on my head. The sudden light was blinding for a moment before my eyes adjusted. Painfully blinding. Stupid headache.

I _really_ want my Advil right now.

"Not recently. And, if you haven't noticed, you're not sunshine and flowers either. I should just let Fi have you for a day," I added under my breath. She liked to "train" younger men to be more sociable. Highly amusing actually… Hey. Wait a minute. "You mean I'm not _actually_ 'unpleasant to be around'?"

Without answer, again, he set me down in the sand and then sagged into a sitting position beside me. Wind danced through the cove, coming in from the sea and swirling around us wildly. Brightly, the sunlight sparkled on the water. Talk about a happy setting. How ironic… Just below the surface there lay an evil, dark place, a place of death. And up here was a scene worthy of a child's storybook. It was almost evening, though, and the sun was already starting to descend in the west.

"You gonna be okay?" I asked finally, after a few moments of examining my surroundings wordlessly.

Hiwatari rolled his shoulders, probably to assess any damage, then nodded. "I'm fine."

"Am I going to get that explanation?"

"No."

"Thought so." I exhaled gustily, but the effect was lost since you couldn't hear it over the wind. Oh, well. It's not the first time that nature had interfered with drama.

A few more minutes ticked by.

"Where in the world is Yamakawa? We didn't send him to China to make those calls, did we?" I asked crossly. Damn him for listening to me! This whole situation was starting to get a little awkward.

"He's right there." Hiwatari pointed to the rocks that we'd crawled over on our way here.

Leading a whole contingent of officers and forensics specialists, Yamakawa was jumping from rock to rock wobbly. If he doesn't stop he'll—

Ouch. That had to hurt.

Yamakawa's fellow officers laughed good-naturedly as he hoisted himself out of a gap between two of the stones, and I joined in with a chuckle of my own. Even at times of great sorrow, or confusion in my case, you could still find people falling over funny.

Standing stiffly, Hiwatari went to greet the newcomers while Yamakawa hurried over to ask what had happened while he'd been gone. Pointedly stressing the "happened". Not 'what did you _find_'. What '_happened_'. I tried not to roll my eyes. So transparent.

My slightly amused attitude disappeared as the forensics team entered the secret doorway and descended the stairs.

Please find something I can touch.

Please.

* * *

(A.N.) Since the cookies seem to be successful, I will continue to use them as a bribe. Oh! And anyone who does review, please provide me with Star Wars quotes. I'm running out. Thanks!


	16. Chapter 15

Disclaimer: There is no try. Only do, or do not.

Touch

Chapter 15

(A.N.) Yay! Update! Everybody dance! (random techno music in background) Thanks for all the reviews, ya'll. . And even if you didn't review, a thanks to you as well. Now, I will leave you to read the chapter while I glomp my beta/muse, Serpent of Slythering.

* * *

Such an innocent thing, the killer thought as he looked at the swan. So fragile, so delicate.

So easy to break.

But he mustn't do that yet, he reminded himself. Not yet. For now, he must prepare his canvas and his tools. The Hikari followed the silver flash of the knife as he sharpened it with a whet stone. So mesmerizing. Exceedingly beautiful. It was all about simplicity, he knew. Beauty is best found in simple things, something that even an uneducated lout could understand in his most drunken state.

The moon was raising the sky, time flowing faster than he would have liked. He hated the restrictions of the night, the limited time for his work.

How can he create something worthy of her name when he didn't have both night and day to dedicate to it?

But no matter. He would do it.

After all, he was a Hikari, an artist. And an artist always found a way to make his art. It is love. Obsession. Loving obsession. Obsessive love. All encompassing and all consuming like a hot fire that burned with gold and red light. That's what his passion for her and the art was akin to. She _was_ art. No, she was his angel. Her forgiveness would be his redemption.

"Always for you, my heart," he whispered to the darkness. He would prove that he was worthy to her.

The swan groaned as she slowly awakened, drawing him away from his caressing thoughts of his beloved. This is the one. The one that will be my ultimate proof. The one that will force her to love me, force her to accept my apologies. The Hikari looked down at the swan, smiling slightly as her eyes widened drastically in fear. The knife twirled in his fingers. In the beginning, he had been too stiff from being immobile for so long to manage something so quick, but now he was used to his body again. Used to his strange skin. He could do so much more now.

"Time to cure the canvas, little one," he crooned to the swan, "Be still and it will not hurt."

He knelt down next to her bare, shivering body, knife poised just above her arm.

"At least not too badly."

* * *

It sparkled like that necklace from _Titanic_. The Heart of the Sea. Such a cheesy name really, and a pretty pathetic movie, but the description fit. I'd always thought that Jack should've lived. But hey, I guess they just wanted to depress the public. No biggie. The only real difference was that this pendent was the size of my pinkie finger's nail. A beautifully crafted silver setting for an equally exquisitely cut sapphire with diamond chip accents hung on a thin silver chain. Absolutely gorgeous, it was a perfect match for the ring that I had in my pocket from Izumi's dump site.

And I didn't want to lay a finger on it.

Chaos practically flowed off the necklace, too many emotions to follow definitely. Not without touching it, that is. Just like the ring, the emotions were from one person. The same person actually. I could tell that much without handling it.

Hiwatari watched me intently, waiting for me to touch the stupid thing. So too was Yamakawa, video recorder ready and standing by. I think I was the only one in the room that didn't want to know what the necklace had to say. Okay, that's not completely true. I did want to know, I just didn't want to be the one to find out first.

We were in the conference room in the station house. The door was locked. The glass panels that looked out over the rest of the space were covered. Only Hiwatari and Yamakawa would be getting front row seats to the show. A show they had witnessed many times before.

Okay. Grow a backbone, Cassie. You know the drill. You're not allowed to wimp out while one the job.

Shoving my shirt up, I removed the modified inner-pants holster and the gun from the small of my back. The gloves came off next, and I laid them on the table along with my weapon. Experimentally, I rolled my shoulders, wincing when the stiff muscles and bruises were stretched in unpleasant ways. I was going to hurt like hell once I'd slept on them. "Let's get this over with," I muttered, more focused on my breathing than anything else.

With a pencil, Hiwatari picked up the necklace, the dangling jewelry shimmering and sparkling even in the horrible light of the conference room. He looked at me and held the pendent out to me. In reply, my hand extended and the world narrowed and concentrated on my palm. A flick of his wrist caused the necklace to slither into my hand.

The cold metal shocked my warm, but clammy, skin. And then my tunnel vision vanished. Everything vanished.

**Blood was dry and caked on my hands, flaking off as I carved the symbols of concealment into the stone. No one would find this place. Even if he managed to escape, his soul would never again be able to access this hell hole. **

**How could he? How _dare_ he!? Nothing but a talentless, spineless, monster! A monster!**

**I cry tears of hate, rage, and sorrow. I'd loved him. _Loved_ him. **

"**So stupid," I choke, "Stupid, stupid woman. How could you have been so foolish, Kouriko?" I had asked myself this question so many times. I still have no answer.**

**I smack my open hand against the stone. Pain. Blood. All that finds me in this world now. Ever since I gave him up… My wings. My freedom.**

**Stupid!**

**Again and again. Smack, smack, smack. Each strike opens more scrapes and cuts on my palm. Bright red blood stains the granite, and the wind howls through the cove mournfully, tugging at my white and blood-stained kimono fiercely. The tide rushes in, powerful and destructive. **

**This was the last matter that needs my attention. All the artifacts had been hidden, he had been sealed, and the prostitute's body had been hidden. The only thing left was to erase the last of the shame. The last link. **

**Cold. The water is cold. I straighten my shoulders. I will do this with nothing sorrowful in my heart. If necessary, I will die in a rage, but not afraid. I will not insult my family's name in such a way. I am a Hikari, a Tamer. I will not allow such a disgrace. My short life of nineteen years had taught me that much.**

**The necklace around my throat feels heavy with his presence so I tug off his gift and let it slip out of my fingers.**

**The waves are calling.**

And then it was over. Melancholy and anger and pride still drifted from the jewelry, but it was faint now. It had faded just like the rage attached to the ring had. She had been right. It was stupid. Love was stupid.

"Are you alright, _Tantei_?" Yamakawa asked softly, head appearing above the camera's eyepiece.

I stared into space, digging the ring out of my pocket and holding in my unoccupied hand. After a moment, I looked up and addressed Hiwatari, "Her name was Hikari Kouriko, and she was nineteen years old. She committed suicide by drowning herself in the sea. Once upon a time, she was married to the murderer and she killed him when she found out. She covered it all up to keep her family's reputation intact."

Hiwatari motioned to Yamakawa, and told him to turn the camera off. "Go write your report, Officer," he ordered, "I'll finish the interview."

I think Yamakawa would have protested if I hadn't started to cry. The suicides were always the hard ones. Kouriko wasn't my first, nor would she be my last. As long as there was hopelessness and pressure in society, there would be suicide. And sometimes, I would have to experience it with them.

Quiet tears streamed down my face, and my hands fisted around the ring and necklace. "Stupid," I sobbed, "So stupid!" I pressed my fists against my eyes, hoping to staunch my tears. "Why would she do something so stupid?"

I already knew why, of course. But that didn't mean I had to accept her actions. She could have just hidden everything, destroyed the evidence. Instead, she did all that and then gave herself to the sea. The Heart of the Sea. The irony didn't amuse me.

"Can you tell me anything else about her?" Hiwatari asked gently, but firmly, with his small, omnipresent notebook out and a pen hovering above it. An interrogator down to his bones, I guess. You can't work for the police if you don't have a shred of curiosity in you.

Hands still over my eyes, I replied, "She mentioned something about being a 'Tamer'. In fact, she did that last time, too. I don't know what that means though. Do you?"

Hesitation. "No."

"Liar."

"Oh really?"

"Yes, really."

"Prove it."

"Make me."

"You can't, which is exactly my point."

I glared at him with my still watery eyes. "You know, I don't have to be psychic to know that you are definitely hiding something. Have I mentioned that before?"

"Something like it, yes." He was glaring back at me. It wasn't fair that he had such mesmerizing eyes. How could I expect to win a staring contest of wills if I couldn't look into his eyes without thinking about how blue they were?

"How about that you are a secretive bastard?"

"That you haven't said." He seemed completely unaffected by the conversation. We could have been talking about the melting point of uranium, or about watching paint dry.

"Then consider it said."

He slid a pair of small white boxes across the table and shot back, "You are not exactly forthcoming all the time either. People keep secrets. It's a fact of life. Deal with it, Simon-_san_."

Taking the hint, I placed the necklace and the ring into separate boxes and closed them. Then wished for industrial strength duct tape to seal them.

"If you asked, I would answer to the best of my ability," I grumbled petulantly. My right glove slid onto my hand, then the left. Next, I began to strap on my holster around my abdomen under my shirt. It's much harder to put on than it is to strip off. Almost to the point of being awkward.

"Have you always been psychic?"

The question caught me off guard. He was taking me seriously? Shit. "Why do you want to know?"

"Curiosity. And you did say you would answer any of my questions."

"How bout this? I answer a question, you answer a question. If I have to spill my guts, then you have to as well."

He considered it for a moment. "On one condition."

"What?"

"Nothing too personal. If there is a question that is far too personal, then it doesn't have to be answered."

I laughed. "That's a very large loophole, Hiwatari, but okay. Now, what was the question?" I would just have to be careful about how I phrased things, just like Truth or Dare. Without the dare.

I adjusted my gun into a more comfortable position as he repeated his question, "Were you born a psychic?"

"No, I wasn't." Maybe I should claim that the question was too personal. This isn't my favorite topic of conversation. "I was born a latent, just like a large majority of the population."

"Explain."

Smart guy. He didn't ask another question, just requested elaboration. I couldn't cut off my answer and say that he had to respond to one of my questions. Damn him.

"Being psychic isn't that remarkable," I said after a minute, "From what we've been able to figure out, it basically comes from using more of your brain and tuning into the world around you. Very few people are actually born with the abilities; they're born with the potential to have the abilities. That's what being latent means. People with good guesses that seem to defy logic are a good example. Déjà vu is another. A latent becomes a full blown psychic after some sort of trigger. Usually physical or emotional trauma." This is where the 'Incident' comes in.

"Well, what—?"

"My turn," I cut him off, "Who is Krad? Really? I think I definitely deserve an explanation."

"That would fall under too personal," he deadpanned.

"Not if I was almost strangled by him. I did tell you that, didn't I?" He was not weaseling out of this one. I would get a straight answer out of him if it killed me.

He was silent. Very, very silent. Eyes averted, he stared into space wordlessly and my annoyance spiked.

He is more stubborn than I am. And here I'd thought he was more sensible than other men.

Resisting my urge to sigh, I began my story. It was a surefire way to guilt-trip him into talking. And all of it was true. Remarkable, isn't it? "I was almost nine years old when I became a psychic." His attention snapped back to me in a heartbeat, the weight of it tangible. "It happened in the summer, in the beginning of August. It was a miserable summer, hot and muggy. It was also the most terrifying time of my life.

I lived in a quiet small town called Serenity, up in northern Maine. The irony is not lost on me. That summer, a killer swept through like a hurricane, destroying the life that I had known. His name was Tucker Hamilton and he specialized in little kids, though that wasn't his exclusive choice for a victim. He kidnapped and killed his victims in pairs, and the papers dubbed him the 'Gemini Butcher' because of it. He had killed twelve people in Serenity alone. Eight of those were children. Even though everyone was so careful, people kept disappearing and turning up dead and mutilated. My best friend Bonnie Campbell and I were careful too. We just weren't careful enough."

Hiwatari opened his mouth to say something, but I waved him silent. Once I start, I hate to be interrupted. It's always harder to pick up in the middle.

"He took us from the school yard, dressed as a cop. We were young, stupid, and trusting. Neither of us suspected that he could be the reason that our mothers walked us to school and back everyday. He'd even had a black and white cruiser. Hamilton was, if anything, a very clever and intelligent man, very precise in his monstrousness. He loaded us into the backseat and drove for a long time, telling us that he was taking us to the hospital because our moms had been involved in a really bad car accident. Needless to say, we never got to the hospital.

We pulled up to an old, abandoned barn on the outskirts of the county. On the way there, he'd given us some juice laced with a sedative. He did that with all the kids he took, I found out later. He kept me and Bonnie there for days, terrorizing us until we didn't know which way was up. Even made us watch the videos he'd made of all his other killings. He always did it the same way, strangling them first, then chopping them up, but he always varied what he did to them before hand. Said he had so many fantasies that he had to enact a different one each time he killed to get through them all. There must have been more than twenty tapes. That's more than forty victims, forty deaths. And we watched every single one of them in the span of three and a half days.

After all of the videos had been watched, he started to repeat them. One he seemed to be particularly found of was the one of two little girls, around ten or eleven years old. I'm not going to go into specifics, but he had a schoolgirl fetish that time. Those two were in the minority of those that he sexually assaulted. And Bonnie and I saw it happen. More than once.

If it had ended there, I don't think that I would have become an empath, but it didn't end. Bonnie was older than I was, almost eleven, and a grade ahead of me. She was a very beautiful girl, would have been a knock out if she'd lived." My eyes began to fill back up with tears. No matter how many times I tell this story, I can't stop myself from crying for Bonnie. Frankly, I don't want there to be a day when I can say what happened and not cry. Even when I'm not even talking about it, I cry for her. I won't ever stop doing that. As long I cry for her, she's remembered. I won't allow myself to forget Bonnie. Not after all that we went through.

"He made me watch what he did to her, and he laughed while he did it. Bonnie screamed and sobbed and fought in the beginning. But eventually she stopped. When he left us alone in that locked and horrible place, I tried to help her. I tried so hard to take her pain away. Wanted to so bad. Then, suddenly, there was this…click, and I felt it. Everything she had felt while he'd raped her, I felt. Every touch, every pain. No visions, just feelings. I didn't have visions then.

Hamilton killed Bonnie first, almost as soon as he got back. Strangled her with a silk cord, just like the others. He was choking me with the same cord when the police and the F.B.I. burst through the doors."

Pausing, I inhaled deeply, wiping at my tears roughly. I really hate crying in front of other people. Embarrassing as hell. But I knew that there hadn't been anything to stop it.

"I'm sorry," Hiwatari said while I tried to compose myself, "I'm sorry that you went through that."

"Want to know the worst part?" I asked with a grim smile.

"What?"

"The story's not over yet. If had been over then, I probably would have stayed a normal empath, no visions. But there's more. A lot more." Another deep breath. "I'm not exactly sure if this is what happened, since I was dead when it did, but it's what I was told."

"You were _what_?"

My small smile lost some of its grimness. It was always interesting to see other people's reaction to that part. "I was dead. Hamilton succeeded in killing me. And he got away.

I was resuscitated and shipped off to the hospital, but Bonnie didn't make it. The F.B.I. searched and searched, but they couldn't find Hamilton. He'd vanished into thin air, like he'd never existed. When I woke up, I was interviewed by a man named Seth Corvin, who was at the time a junior agent with the F.B.I."

Hiwatari frowned a bit. "Isn't he your boss? You ended up working for him?"

My smile lost the rest of its grimness. "Fate works in mysterious ways. But the main reason Corvin recruited me was because I helped them catch Hamilton. After I was released from the hospital, I had to go to the police station to finish giving my statement. My mom came with me, never let me out of her sight actually. In the waiting area, I was trying very hard not to move my head since I'd had a killer headache. I'd had absolutely no control then, and I could feel every emotion floating around the room. I'd also been seeing little flashes of events almost every time I touched something. Mini-visions, if you will.

But anyway, while in the waiting area, my mother and I overheard Corvin and his fellow agents discussing the case. That's how I'd found out that Hamilton had escaped, and all they'd found was the police cruiser he'd been driving. It had been parked near a small marina, where he'd rented a boat under a false name and disappeared. During my interview, I'd asked about the car, asked if they'd found Bonnie's charm bracelet, which had been missing. They said they hadn't, and I pitched a fit, demanding to see the car myself."

"And they let you?"

"Surprising isn't it? Corvin convinced them for me, said it would help me to start confronting what had happened. So, I was escorted to the car, and allowed to climb all over the backseat. I didn't find the bracelet, just a charm from it. A little bow and arrow. I felt something emanating from the little charm, but I ignored it and scrambled into the front seat. Peopled started protesting, but all I really remember was that I touched the steering wheel. Then, bam, vision. My first one ever. He'd rented the boat as a diversion, and really had used a credit card registered under a false name to buy a plane ticket to Philadelphia. He'd been planning to lay low at in a hotel he'd used before just outside the city. Hamilton had been running scared.

When I told the police, they didn't believe me. Until Corvin, with little else to go on, checked out the name I'd given him for the credit card. Turns out that I was right. They found him hiding out in that hotel and arrested him. He was executed a couple years ago and, despite my age, I was invited to watch from the front row. Corvin sat next to me when they stuck that needle in his arm. By that time, I'd been working for his unit for almost two years."

Blue eyes gazing at me intently, Hiwatari inquired softly, "And before that?"

"I lived as good a life as I could in the town my mom moved us to, trying to be a normal girl. Needless to say, it didn't work very well. I had slips, had visions when I forgot to be careful. I was going slowly insane, seeing things and feeling things that had nothing to do with me, and no one to talk about them with. My mom and grandmother didn't want to discuss anything that could be linked back to Hamilton. They referred to the entire thing as the 'Incident'. I saw a shrink, and she helped me a lot. Still does. But it was never really enough. By the time I started seventh grade, I was on the verge of having a breakdown. Then Corvin reappeared and offered me a job. I said yes."

A still quietness fell when I finished, and would have been absolute if not for the hum of the air conditions and the faint sounds of the hustle and bustle beyond the conference room. Silence is golden, I suppose, but it's always nerve wracking to wait for the total response. I hate pity. I really, really hate it. It's why I don't tell many people the entire experience. It's why I asked Corvin that the whole thing be kept off my official record.

"I suppose it's my turn, isn't it?" my partner finally said, still gazing steadily at me.

I didn't answer, just waited. Mission accomplished.

"As I'm sure Krad's told you, my true surname is Hikari. The killer is an ancestor of mine.

And Krad is part of the Hikaris."

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(A.N.) Again, thanks for reading. If you review, I shall send you cyber cookies and hot chocolate. Oh, and Happy Thanksgiving everyone!


	17. Chapter 16

Disclaimer: _You will love my story. _"I will love your story." (Yay Jedi mind powers!)

Touch

Chapter 16

(A.N.) holds sheild up Don't kill me! I have updated! It's only taken me a... Well, a month, but ya'll are going to ignore that, kay? Love! Thanks for reviews, and for reading! Love to my muses and my beta!

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There is something to be said for being a talented storyteller, for being able to capture your audience with your voice and make them live your tale as if it were truly their life. Eyes don't usually have the power to hold the gaze of a perfect stranger, but a true storyteller is a master of it. The very strength of their gaze and the cadence of their voice is enough to pull you into a world that is not your own. Hiwatari was such a storyteller. I don't know which was more mesmerizing though: his voice, his eyes, or the story itself. He wove a tale of such dark beauty, a tale full of grief and pain and madness. But above all, I found it to be a lonely story. Feuds and magic and creation and death are too volatile mixed together, so you must keep the components that create them separate. Like Krad and Dark. Like all the other Hikari artworks. He told me about something born out of the purest intentions, like art, and how it could become so evil that you had to seal it away and hope to God it was never found. Krad, he commented, was high on his list for being sealed away, but Krad was too far ingrained in the blood of his family that he knew it would never happen the way he wanted it to.

There was a flicker of gold in his eyes during some parts of the story, and in those moments I could have sworn that Krad was putting the right words in Hiwatari's mouth. Hiwatari wasn't the only one who suffered in that relationship. I got the impression that Krad, no matter how twisted, really did care for Hiwatari. Hiwatari, however, did his best to suppress his Lucifer, keeping him locked away and as far from his mind as he could. It must be terrible for Krad to be stuck inside the head of the only person he cares about and know that Hiwatari doesn't love him back. But I also found that Krad was truly sad for the deaths of some of those artworks that Hiwatari told me about. The Second Hand of Time, the Dancing Muses, Adonis, Selene and Endymon… The list of sculptures and paintings and sketches and other artworks was too long to even comprehend.

It was everything I could do to restrain myself from wrapping my arms around Hiwatari and, in a way, Krad and whisper that it would be alright, tell them lies that the world was ultimately a good place. But I didn't. I came close though. So close. Being an empath made me want to take that grief and pain and sorrow I felt in him away.

Or maybe I was the one who needed to hear those lies.

Blue eyes wary, Hiwatari leaned back into his swivel chair and waited silently for me to finish digesting all of what he had said. He was waiting for me to judge, or call him a liar, I think. If anyone else had told me this story, I would have, but not Hiwatari. The sheer, but subtle, sincerity behind his words forbid it. Instead, I said, "I'm sorry." It took me a second to realize that my eyes were barely holding tears back. I wasn't even sure what I was apologizing for. I think it might have been for getting all weepy. I was tapping into the emotions that he didn't let bother him, that he didn't let affect him.

"Are you…crying?" Hiwatari asked, sounding skeptical. His voice had gone back to its normal clipped tone.

I nodded carefully, trying to keep the tears from spilling out of my eyes.

"_Naze_?"

"Because you won't do it yourself." I closed my lids and felt the tears slide down my face. Deep breath. Another. Calm. Separate yourself, Cassie. You got too close. Way too close. I explained further as I wiped the annoying water away, "Repressed emotions are stronger than normal ones, especially when I'm feeling similar emotions myself. Locking away your sadness or your anger does not make it go away. It makes it expand until you let it out or it consumes you. It also goes away if your friendly neighborhood empath happens to drop by and take it for you. Whichever comes first. The worst are the alcoholics and the druggies. But that's a story I'd rather not get into." I smiled a bit. "And now that we're both done spilling our guts, let's get back to work."

I never was much for trying to shrink other people's minds. It's annoying. I try to stay away from profiling my co-workers, as well as touching them. There are some things that just shouldn't be told or shown, don't you think? Just knowing his story was enough for me. Just enough.

Hiwatari watched me for a moment, thoughtful looking. Then, he tucked the evidence bags into a medium white cardboard box labeled with kanji numbers and other characters. The box was full of other such bags with evidence inside them, each bag tucked neatly and precisely into the box. It reminded me of how messy my room back at the inn was in comparison. I am not a neat and precise kind of girl and since I can always find what I need even in my chaos, I never bothered to break the habit. Besides, no one's perfect.

As he put the top on the box, Hiwatari stated, "We have another site to visit."

I nodded, and then realized he wasn't looking at me. "Yeah. We're going today right?"

"You're going today. I have another lead to follow. We'll meet back here to trade information afterwards. Yamakawa will be accompanying you."

For some irrational reason, a little nugget of disappointment wormed its way into my heart. I'd become accustomed to working with him, and I wanted him to come with me. What was he going to do? Where was he going? If I asked, I doubt he would tell me. So, I didn't ask. I just made a noncommittal noise that I hoped he didn't question too closely. Still, I was concerned. I don't like not knowing where my partner is during an investigation. No agent really does. No cop does. It always leaves you feeling uneasy, and you hover near your cell phone or a radio, waiting for them to call and check in. And that's no way to spend your time during a murder case. Especially one with the time constraints that this case has. However, I knew that my protests would fall on deaf ears, so I exited the room only saying, "Be careful."

And then I was out the door, calling Yamakawa to take me to the next dump site. There wasn't time for questions. There would be time for that later, once we caught the bastard.

I prayed that the dark feeling in my heart was wrong.

oOo

Unlike the cove, the harbor was very peaceful. The water was still and boats floated tranquilly on the miniscule waves. It was, in short, very tame. None of the raw force of nature that I saw in the cove.

It wasn't nearly as heartbreaking.

Yet.

The scene hadn't been released yet, so the tape was still up and the taint of death still was tangible. No one had trespassed, unwilling to get that close to that darkness. That was my job, and Yamakawa's job, and Hiwatari's, and every other law enforcer. Death and evil are what fill up my days and keep me up at night. Me and everyone like me.

The sun was already set, and evening had cast everything in shades of violet and gray. The entire effect was very soft and mysterious. And at the same time, very deceiving.

Flashlights out, Yamakawa and I separated and began to search around for any hidden doors…or wells…or any other strangely placed stuff that caught our fancy. Yamakawa went down to the thin walkway that lined the water, and I walked out on the wooden dock.

The boards creaked under my feet, betraying the age of the structure. The mooring lines swung slightly, and the shadows of the ships were just this side of ominous. At the end of the dock, I pointed my torch out onto the water and referenced a sketched out map of the original crime scene. She'd been found right where I was standing, with flowers covering her slashed body and scattered in the water. Roses and lilies. Red and white. Blood and bone. Passion and death. I was sure that the flowers had been chosen for their meanings, not necessarily for their (non-existent) harmony with each other.

I shoved the sketch into my messenger bag and knelt down, carefully standing the flashlight up on its end so that light was cast around me. Then I started sliding off my cotton glove, wrinkling my nose. White is not a good color for gloves. Dirt was streaked all over it, and sweat shows up far too easily on it. Plus, cotton stretches and then shrinks. All the time. I wanted my leather ones back so badly.

Tucking the blasted gloves into my bad like the sketches, I pressed both my hands completely against the slightly damp wood.

**My breathing is coming fast and painfully. I'm not used to such exertion. It's been so long since I last carried a canvas around. So long. **

**The moon is full and perfect. The night is alive around me. Eager to see my work.**

**I set the swan down and begin to arrange her limp limbs into perfection. Serene. Beautiful. Seductive. Roses for my love of art, for Her. Lilies for death. And for the swans transformation, her rebirth.**

**It's _breathtaking_.**

"Jesus H. Christ," I muttered. I shivered, but not because I was cold. This guy definitely had a screw missing. More than one screw. Actually, I'm pretty sure he's missing all of them.

The lingering feel of triumph and death rode through the air, along with a peticular aura that didn't quite belong. It wasn't an emotion really, but it did have power to it. The feeling was wafting in off the water with the night breeze. Frowning, I leaned out over the edge of the dock like a dog scenting a trail. I opened my senses wider, probing thoroughly at the weird power in the air. It was close.

I leaned forward a bit more, scooting my body and leaning completely leaning my upper body out over the water. I was closer.

Just a little farther…

And then I leaned too far.

I hit the water hard, creating a huge splash, and then I was so fucking cold that I couldn't think anymore. The only things I could register were the cold, the darkness, that feeling of suspended time that you only experience under water. My body curled, trying to conserve heat instinctively, and I kept sinking deeper and deeper into the depths. My clothes, mainly my jeans, were giving me too much weight, and it kept me from floating. But I didn't care, I couldn't move. The cold and that elusive power focused my awareness mostly inward, searching and searching. The power curled around my senses and drew me toward it. Forcing my body to move, I paddled blindly after it, heedless of my oxygen craving lungs.

Seaweed brushed against my body, trailing creepily. Keeping my eyes screwed shut; I reached frantically through the water, and finally felt my quickly numbing fingers brush against stone. The source of the power is behind it…

My lungs were protesting, my chest aching. I needed air. Kicking, I tried to propel myself upward, but was stopped by a tight restraint around my ankle. I tugged again. Nothing gave. Now panicking, I tried to feel around my ankle and I pushed against the stone, trying to make it move, trying to undo the stubborn plant life (at least, it felt like plant life). It didn't. Panicking more, I flailed and struck the stone accidentally, salt water stinging as it made contact with new cuts and abrasions. I opened my mouth, and bubbles escaped. Water invaded my throat and lungs. Choking, I scraped my fingernails over the plant, trying to break its hold on me.

Slowly, my limbs became heavier and heavier, and my thought process began to halt. It was almost like going to sleep.

Then light leaked through my closed eyelids and I felt some sort of intangible force _pull _on me.

But I was already losing consciousness. I had a brief moment of clarity to realize that Hiwatari shouldn't have been the one I was worrying about.

oOo

I think the air is what woke me up. My first breath in what felt like forever. My body jerked me out of my dreamless state and basically threw me back into the real world. Upper body thrashing upward, I felt my legs swish through water. I was in some kind of natural cave, its entrance hidden under the water of the harbor.

And I had almost drowned before I stumbled in on it. If I didn't know any better, I'd say that I was destined to find the place. Why else would it be so conveiniently placed in such a way that finding it would save my life? Frankly, I think that I'm just the luckiest bitch to ever walk the earth, but I can have a little faith in the divine. Especially when that divine saves my butt.

After sufficient deep breathing and thanking God for this freak miracle, I examined my surroundings. It reminded me of the hidden cavern in the cove. The walls were damp and rough, mold growing abundantly everywhere. The water was only half the area, coming to an end at the lip of the natural pool. And the only reason I could see anything was because there was a strange glyph glowing softly on the wall in front of me. It cast gold light over everything.

Paddling forward, I levered myself out of the water and collapsed on the thankfully solid stone. I stayed on the ground for a while, trying to catch my breath and quickly exploring my minor wounds. Then, I began to push myself up shakily, my legs wobbling uncontrollably. Cautiously, I went to examine the symbol on the wall. I'd only seen something like it once before: in the cove. Carved on that fucking altar. Pausing a bit, I pressed my hand against the symbol, but all I felt was startling warmth that was nothing like the sinister power of the altar. It washed over me in overwhelming comfort, like coming home. The power pulsed at me as if saying "Keep out". I pushed back. Let me in. I want to see.

And then I saw.

**I traced my finger confidently over the stone. Power. Binding. Concealment. Purification. Protection. All this and more. I chanted softly under my breath, words dripping with magic. **

**This is the first. I will hide the last two items that he gave me next. The ring, then the necklace. I will have nothing of that monster left with me when I give myself to the sea. Nothing.**

**Blood is dripping down my face, is soaked into my kimono. His blood. My blood. Mingled.**

**I want to vomit. **

**I want my wings back. **

"Oh, Kouriko…" I muttered, still pushing against the stone, "what were you hiding?" The glyph pulsed again. "Show me. Just show me, damn it!" I placed my free hand next to the other and shoved with all my strength. Come on…

"Aah!" I yelped, falling forward. "Where the hell did the wall go!?"

The wall had disappeared, leaving an indentation with a shelf behind. I grabbed said shelf to keep myself upright. Stupid wall, disappearing on me. Since when do walls just decide to move or vanish? On the self rested a chisel and hammer worked in light wood and steel with blue stones inset on the handle. A little too ornate for a working set, but they were beautifully crafted. I didn't have to touch them to know that powerful emotions resided in them.

Before touching them and potentially incapacitating myself for a good deal of time, I hunted around the rest of the chamber. Coming upon a small niche in a corner, I pulled out a book dusty and slightly moldy with age. The leather cover smelled a bit and cracked horribly when I opened it. Elegant looking characters were neatly drawn down the pages, the entire thing full. The ink was blue, indigo probably, and the paper was extremely thick and heavy. Unfortunately, I couldn't read most of it. The words made up by all the characters were beyond my knowledge. But the last page spoke for its self really. The handwriting was shaky and untidy, the paper stained with drops of blood.

Kouriko. It had to be Kouriko's journal or something. It felt like her.

I plunged my hand back into the hole and rummaged around. Another book came out with my hand, this one much larger than the first, though it was in the same condition. I flipped open the cover and was greeted with some of the most awesome sketches I've ever seen. Sweeping graphite and charcoal lines graced the paper with the mastery of someone truly gifted. The figures could've walked right off the page and I wouldn't have been able to tell the difference between them and real people. And then there were landscapes and animal sketches. All of them equally beautiful. It was mind blowing.

I wondered if Hiwatari could draw just a wonderfully. But only for a minute.

…I swear.

Pushing my awe aside, I put the sketchbook down next to the journal, then stood and went back to the niche. Reluctantly reaching forward with both hands, I wrapped one hand around each thing. Somehow, I didn't think I was going to like this one little bit.

_**Ching. Chink, bing. **_

**The hammer's impact against the back of the chisel is loud, but not in a bad way. The stone is cooperating nicely. Blood spatters with each strike. His blood. **

"**That monster!" I bring the hammer down harder than necessary and chip away a larger chunk than I intend. **

"**Calm, Kouriko", I urge myself quietly, glancing briefly at his body lying on the stone floor and the small wooden box resting next to it. The box holds his soul, or what's left of his soul at any rate.**

**I must finish the sculpture, for it will be a reliquary for his treacherous being. For as long as my powers hold, he will be trapped in limbo, never to know rest, never to harm, and certainly never to be reincarnated. I will not allow such a monster to be released upon the world again. Never.**

**My hammer resumes its pounding.**

**Never.**

Her resolve is remarkable. Killing a man is one thing. Making sure he will never have a chance to do it again in his next life is another. If only she hadn't needed to make the choice.

The world is full of those "if onlys". Too bad it didn't make a damn bit of difference. What might have been doesn't help us in the present, nor in the future. Trust me on that one. I spent a lot of time wondering what it would be like not to be an empath and it didn't do a bloody thing to change my life. It just made it harder to bear whatever situation I was involved in at the time.

By the time Kouriko would've thought of "if only", though, it was probably too late. Her bones probably don't care.

It's a good thing there are empaths like me, I've come to realize, and that can feel the emotions of the past so that we can speak for the victims now. At least, that's what I think.

Mourning such things, I let go of the chisel and hammer and took a step back, turning around in the process. I needed to get out of here and report in. I'd been gone for at least a half and hour. Yamakawa was probably flipping out right this very second, but in a very reserved and Japanese way, of course. Just thinking of it made me chuckle.

As much as I was beginning to loathe water, I slipped back into the pool and dove after taking a deep breath. Eyes shut, I felt my way along once I hit the bottom and I began searching for an opening. When I needed air, I surfaced, took a breath, and then went back under. Methodically, I searched the entire pool and found no opening.

The stone had closed back up.

I was trapped.

"Oh shit," I panted unsteadily. I dove again and kept feeling around. Every inch, and I found nothing. Again.

Muttering every obscenity I could think of, I treaded water, mind racing. I was trapped in a cave. A cave that no one knew about. A cave that no one was going to find.

"Help!" I screamed, knowing that I wouldn't be heard. "Somebody help me!" I pounded my fist against the stone wall. "Help!"

Fear laced through my mind, but I pushed it back. I couldn't panic. That's the first rule. Don't panic unless there is nothing else you can do. I hadn't tried everything yet. Leaning back, I floated on the water, willing myself to be calm. I was only a little successful with that endeavor, but I continued anyway.

Closing my eyes, I took a deep breath and borrowed into my own mind. I needed my garden for this. Hell, I probably needed to know what I was doing, exactly, for this, but that's never stopped me before, so to hell with it.

Just concentrate. Be calm. Relax. Focus.

Garden…

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_The wall was comforting to see because it was so familiar. Whatever was happening to me in the real world, the garden was a safe place where I was always at home. There was no such thing as fear in my garden. It was a haven. _

_But now I was worried and a bit panicky. Getting trapped in a room will do that to you. I've never tried to do something like this before. I'm no telepath, so I can't send thoughts to someone else or anything like that. The best I might be able to do is communicate my emotions. And, given my generally frantic state, I should be able to draw someone to the vicinity of my location._

_Theoretically, at least. If this didn't work, then it was time to panic._

_And panic I would. But, for now, I needed to be more concerned with contacting somebody. I let down my walls almost entirely, making them seem opaque with holes. They were still there, but I could now sense others much more strongly. I reached out to everyone I could find, but I failed to make them feel what I wanted them to. I came close with Yamakawa, but not close enough. He was too busy freaking out because he had lost me._

_And then, I made the only reach I had left open._

_I reached for Hiwatari._

_And Krad._

_

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(A.N.) Please review! I got about 60 hits and 7 reveiws! That's not good! REVEIW! I will continue to supply cyber-cookies!


	18. Chapter 17

Disclaimer: I sense a great disturbance in the Force.

Touch

Chapter 17

(A.N.) Thanks for all the reviews! Oh, and since it's late and I didn't want to roust my betas from their beds, the only proofreading this chapter has got has been from me, so there may be a few mistakes. Sorry! Please enjoy it anyway.

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_I cast my emotions out like a net, making all the ropes pulsate with my fear. I opened everything I was feeling to whoever was listening, hoping that it would draw someone to my side. Mainly, I was trying for Hiwatari, but anyone would do. I mean, really, I can't be too picky about it, can I?_

_My garden dissipated and was replaced with a never ending blackness that I had experienced before. There was no light, but yet I could see as clearly as in daytime. There was no floor, but yet I could stand. There was no time, but yet I could feel the seconds go by._

_And even here, I could feel the cold of the water numbing my body dangerously._

_Time was, as the saying goes, of the essence._

"_Hiwatari!" I called into the darkness._

_A faint stirring answered my call, but he was too far away. Or too distracted. He was not conscious of my summons, and so he did not answer. Damn._

_Well, so much for Plan A._

_I guess I have to try Plan B._

_Krad. _

_Why didn't that inspire confidence?_

"_Krad!" I shouted, reaching as far as possible with my abilities._

_This time, a much stronger stirring, but then, almost as if ignoring me, he repelled my call._

_He did_ not _just do that._

"_Krad, you worthless son of a bitch! Answer me, damn it!" I screamed, "I am not going to freeze to death because of you ignoring me! Now answer!" I sent an extra pulse through my web to prove my point._

_Unlike his previous appearances in my dream state, Krad actually showed up in his usual corporeal form, wings and all. Oh, and annoyed. Yeah, he was very annoyed. Pissed off, actually. _

"_How dare you summon me, girl!" he thundered. His gold eyes glinted menacingly, lips twisted in a cruel snarl._

_Okay. Maybe this wasn't such a good idea._

_Determined not to make an utter fool of myself, I said, "Well, it seemed that you were the only one who could hear me. Which makes sense once you think about, I suppose. Here, we're on the same plane of consciousness. I think, anyways." There, that didn't sound hysterical at all. Very sound and rational._

"_And why was it so important that you reach me?" he growled in response, stepping forward in anger. "You have overstepped your bounds, human," he continued when I didn't answer right away, "And I will have the reason why. Immediately."_

"_I kind of have a favor to ask."_

_His entire face darkened._

"_Would it help to say that this is a last resort? And that since my life is in danger, it would be greatly appreciated?"_

_He started to glow._

"_Guess not," I muttered aloud. "Plan B is officially a failure. Great. Just great." My words were calm, but the rest of me wasn't. Panic welled up in my chest, and I could feel the coldness of the ocean even more strongly. And panic will make us do strange things. Like pleading with the Devil, sort of. "Please?" I begged one last time. "It just requires you to relay a message. That's it. Please!" I grabbed the sleeve of the white shirt he wore, trying not to think about how he was going to suffocate me for it later._

_In reply, he grabbed my wrist and ground out from between gritted teeth. "Do not touch me."_

"_Please!" My concentration was breaking up from fear and cold. "Just tell Hiwatari that I'm in a cave under the dock at the harbor! Tell him I can't get out!" The darkness was fading, and so was Krad, though I could still feel his grip on my arm. "Damn it, do something!" I screamed at him._

_And then everything was white.

* * *

_

I couldn't make my body move. Completely numb and almost frozen, I could only float.

Time seemed to stop, and all that I was aware of was the almost soothing rhythm of the water cradling me. My panic was almost gone, replaced by a calm acceptance. I suppose there are worse ways to go. God knows that I've seen the results of such ways.

A mother who beat her three children to death.

Madmen who rape and torture.

A husband who poisons his wife then commits suicide by hanging.

A desperate teenager that killed the three men who raped his mother by shooting them repeatedly in non-lethal places and watched them bleed out.

A woman that killed herself to save her family from her murderous delusions.

Yes, there were worse ways to die.

How strange, that I'm so calm about it. I always imagined that I would go kicking and screaming, but I had never imagined that I'd be so tired when I was dying.

And so the time passed, with my awareness of the world growing smaller and smaller.

It could have been minutes.

Or hours.

Or even days.

To think that Kouriko and I would both die at the hands of the sea. Weird.

Faintly, I sensed another presence close by. I didn't think there were actual entities that came to take your spirit to whatever place when you died. I'd thought that you just sort of found your own way. I mean, it can't be that hard. Could you really get lost in a spiritual plane?

Or maybe the guiding angel thing was just a welcome sort of gig. Hi, my name is Charon and I'll be your celestial guide today. Please float this way to your eternal judgment. And please keep hands, feet, and other such transparent appendages inside the ectoplasmic bus at all times.

Okay. I'm losing my mind. Wonderful. I'm going to the Pearly Gates insane.

It figures.

The presence, the force of emotional energy, was approaching fast. If my face could have moved properly, I would have frowned. Are spirits supposed to be afraid? Do they feel overwhelming urgency to get somewhere? Another rush of feeling penetrated my almost frozen brain. My breathing was slow and weak, and I could feel my heart pumping erratically and slowly. Shutting down. My entire body was shutting down.

My eyes fluttered shut. I could wait.

There was a tremendous disturbance of the water, catching me off guard. Do angels swim? I didn't think so but…

"Simon-_san_!"

Angels are Japanese, too?

Man, I think I need to have a talk with whoever's in charge. How come they didn't let us in on such miscellaneous facts like that in church?

Arms slid under my back and my knees, supporting me. Warmth, something that was nearly alien to me by this point, seeped through my wet clothing and chilled skin. The arms shook me urgently.

"Simon-_san_! _Me o hiraite kudasai! Okite!_" the voice commanded shakily.

What was he saying?

Reluctantly, I opened my eyes and tried to focus on the face hovering above mine, finding myself drawn straight into a pair of very familiar sapphire eyes. "H-hey, Hi-hiwatari." So, I was sort of right about angels coming for me.

"Simon-_san_—" The rest of what he said was unintelligible to me since it was in such rapid and complicated Japanese. He pulled me over to the lip of stone bordering the water and gently hoisted me up onto it. Still speaking, Hiwatari started rubbing my arms, trying to restore circulation and warmth.

Loathe to move since I doubted I could, I whispered, "C-can't und-derstand-d you."

"_Nani?_"

At last, a word I understood.

"Slow d-down. Ssspeak-k Eng-glish." My teeth were chattering.

The flow of foreign words stopped. "Right. Sorry," he apologized in blessed English. He continued to rub my arms vigorously, and a pins and needles sensation began to make my skin buzz. "What happened?"

"The w-wall closed back u-up. I couldn't g-get out-t." I shivered. "I can't believe h-he told y-you where I was." Wow. Krad _did_ have a heart. And he didn't want me to die in such a lame way.

I think I was starting to like the guy.

Sort of.

Maybe.

Just a little.

"To tell the truth, so was I," Hiwatari admitted, glancing up at my face. "Do you think you can move?"

Successfully, I flexed my fingers and lifted my head a bit. "Yeah. A little, at least."

"Good. Now, all you need to do is hold on to me and hold your breath. We're going back to the surface."

Sliding back into the water, Hiwatari kept a hand on my arm, then helped me in. Smoothly, he side-stroked his way to a wall on our left, pulling me with him. When he glanced over at me and told me to take a deep breath, I had a belated realization that he wasn't wearing his glasses. Their absence made him seem younger, less serious.

In my opinion, Hiwatari should forgo glasses (since he didn't need them, or so he told me) for the betterment of female welfare everywhere. It's a good cause.

But, somehow, I doubted that he would buy it.

So, instead, I did as he instructed. I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and wrapped my frost-bitten arms around his neck.

The water wasn't nearly as cold as I remembered it to be.

With one arm around my waist, Hiwatari propelled us both swiftly through the water. It would figure that he would be an excellent swimmer, among being ridiculously intelligent and cute. Some people are just gifted all around. Lucky bastards.

When we broke the surface of the water, I was shivering, though not as badly as I had been before. Hiwatari was also ridiculously warm. Or maybe I was just so cold that anything with a tempeture above zero degrees was warm. A myriad of voices assaulted my ears, all of which were saying words and phrases that I didn't understand at all. Hiwatari shifted me and murmured a command to let go so that we could be pulled up onto the dock. However, my body didn't want to loose such a vital and welcome source of heat completely, so I grabbed his hand instead.

Hands reached down and pulled us both from the frigid ocean, but I didn't relinquish my new grip on Hiwatari's hand. More hands lifted me onto a gurney and I found myself being wheeled towards an ambulance that stood waiting with its lights flashing.

Shit.

"No," I pronounced clearly, trying to sit up. "No h-hospital. I do not-t n-need a hospital." I squeezed Hiwatari's hand for emphasis, since I'd yet to let go of him. A paramedic was attempting to shove me back down, but I kept repeating over and over, "No."

I was not a fucking invalid. And I most certainly did not want to end back up in the same hospital where they doped me out of my mind. Absolutely not.

As adorable as that dough dog was, I had no desire to see it again.

Hiwatari sighed, and then made a quick hand motion that brought a worried Yamakawa into my line of sight. In short order, I was wrapped in three thick blankets, had a cup of warm tea forced down my throat, and was tucked in the back of Yamakawa's black and white with Hiwatari handing me a second cup of tea. Hiwatari also had a blanket draped over his shoulders.

Ha. No hospital.

As Yamakawa started the car, he asked, "Where to?"

"The inn," I instructed hoarsely, leaning back against the seat and nursing my tea.

"Yes, ma'am."

"I thought I told you not to call me that."

"You also told the Commander not to call you "miss", but he still does."

I glared at Hiwatari from the corner of my eyes. "I did, but it's less likely that I can hurt him. You, on the other hand, are far easier game."

"You wound me, _Tantei_," Yamakawa joked lightly. I could still feel his relief that I was alright. Sweet guy.

He pulled out of the crowded harbor area, accelerating until we were speeding along at a regular speed. My eyelids felt heavy. So, I finished my tea hurriedly, not wanting to spill it all over myself. Empty cup in hand, I curled up completely in the seat, legs tucked against my chest and covered completely by the numerous layers of blankets.

Before I got overly comfortable, though, Hiwatari pushed my cotton gloves into my hands in the cup's place. I dragged them on tiredly, not really caring if all the fingers were in the right holes. Meanwhile, Hiwatari slid his glasses back on.

I could practically hear the cries of female disappointment.

It was so warm in the car. I snuggled farther into my cocoon of blankets.

The last thought I had was that I really needed to stop falling asleep at inconvenient times.

oOo

I was jarred awake by someone picking me up, blankets and all, and pulling me from the backseat of the car. A disgruntled sounds made it passed my lips. I had been perfectly comfortable in the car, damn it.

I was carried into what I recognized after a moment as the inn where I was staying, and then up the steps to my room.

Which still looked like a war zone.

When the lights were flicked on, I saw the person carrying me was Hiwatari. I shouldn't have been surprised.

"We have got to stop meeting like this," I murmured drowsily. This was starting to feel far too much like déjà vu.

It felt exactly like déjà vu when Hiwatari pulled his silent guy act.

We would have to work on his people skills.

For professional reasons, of course.

Yeah. Let's go with that. Professional. Right.

Carefully, Hiwatari deposited me on the bed. I'd never thought that a mattress could feel so good. Soft. Really soft. Soft enough to lull me back into sleep.

Before I slid back into unconsciousness, I said softly, "Thanks, Hiwatari." And in the back of my mind, I said a thank you to Krad too.

"Yamakawa will come get you tomorrow morning," he said in reply.

I really hated not having a driver's license.

Nodding, I reached out and brushed my gloved fingertips against his arm. "I mean it. Thank you."

… I must be hallucinating.

Hiwatari exited quietly, turning off the lights and shutting my door as he went.

And he was blushing.

But like I said: I must be hallucinating.

Sleep must be clouding my eyes or something.

Still… I smiled a bit foolishly as I closed my eyes. I still had a meeting to attend, after all.

It wouldn't be polite to keep everyone waiting.

* * *

_It turned out that I was the one waiting. Fiona had to pick everybody else up first, I guess. Or I was early. One or the other. It didn't bother me to wait. My garden made it a very peaceful and relaxing wait where I could ponder such things as Hiwatari. _

_Just as any self-respecting girl would do at least once after meeting him._

_Fiona's knock at my walls was brisk and polite, like always. Without hesitation, I opened a door and stepped out to meet her. She looked as she always has, though there seemed to be a few more lines at the corners of her eyes than when I'd seen her last. Dressed in a white cotton man's shirt and a pair of crisp linen pants, she looked lovely and capable at the same time. Her steel gray hair was braided and pinned back from her tanned face. She was barefoot._

_In this plane, we all appear in the clothing and hair style that we project on ourselves. I was dressed in faded and torn jeans, and a green T-shirt with a darker green shamrock on it. Under the shamrock there were the words "Love me, I'm Irish" written in gold letters. My feet were shod in sensible sneakers that were as worn as my jeans and my stubborn hair was pulled back in a ponytail at the base of my neck._

_I've been told that I looked younger like this._

"_Well," she drawled, "ya ready, dahlin?" Her Southern accent dripped off of her words like soothing honey. If I was a lesser person, I would've cried with relief at hearing her motherly voice. She extended a hand to me and as soon as I took it, a feeling like coming home washed over me._

_And I wanted her homemade fried chicken. That would erase all my stress._

"_Ev'reyone's waitin' for us," she chided when I paused too long, thinking about her savory chicken._

_Slightly embarrassed, I apologized for my bad manners and let her lead me into that special place that only Fiona seemed to be able to find. Then again, she'd created it, so I guess she would be the only person to be able to access it on her own._

_Eight others were waiting for us. Three men, four women, and one little girl._

_Well, time to get down to business._

_

* * *

_

(A.N.) Well, hoped you liked it. Review and let me know!


	19. Chapter 18

Disclaimer: Come to the Dark Side. We have cookies.

Touch

Chapter 18

(A.N.) Yay! I have updated! Love me! (crickets chirp in the ensuing silence) Wow. That's a bit heart breaking. However, ya'll made up for it in all the reviews I got. . Much thanks! Also, everyone glomp my beta, Serpent of Slytherin, since she put up with my incessent nagging and whining about this chapter. Enjoy!

* * *

_The haven was a large room filled with huge cushioned armchairs and basket seats. A fireplace in the corner housed a happily crackling fire that enveloped me in warmth the minute I entered the room. White walls with tasteful paintings surrounded me as well, and candle lanterns lit up all the dark corners, creating a very welcoming and homey atmosphere. _

_I loved it here. I loved the people who were here._

_We exchanged pleasantries, some small talk. Time worked differently here, and we had almost an infinite amount. I hadn't seen almost everyone in a while, a good few months at the least. I couldn't really remember exactly when I had seen them all at the same time._

_Karla Tremaine was the woman standing closest to me when I entered Fi's sanctuary. Tall, blond, and leggy, Karla was the perfect picture of a model from New York. Which she was. At the age of twenty five, she modeled for famous clothing lines like Nike, Victoria's Secret, and I.N.C. Her eyes were a pale green color and always perfectly accented with the right kind of make-up that looked as if she wore none at all. It was hard not to stereotype Karla, but I learned quickly not to. She's intelligent and has a business degree from Yale. Of course, she was also psychic, as everyone here was. Karla was a telekinetic, able to move almost anything with sheer force of will, even herself, though that took a considerable amount of effort more than just moving a box or something._

_Next to her was another woman about five years older than Karla, and practically the model's opposite in every way. Short, plump, and dark. Maggie Cromwell was a British national that I'd met during a case concerning the British Embassy. She was a diplomat. And a damn good one at that. Maggie was responsible for numerous trade agreements and treaties, and being a telepath, that wasn't very surprising. She was an open telepath, meaning that she didn't have to touch someone to read them, but instead could simply receive them if she probed for them. Very handy in the political world. She was forceful and sweet at the same time, much like Fiona was._

_After greeting both women, and getting hugged by each of them, I was wrapped in a bear hug by one of my closest friends, Kevin. _

_Kevin Lovell and I knew each other from elementary school, a year ahead of me, and he was one of the few people who ever knew about my powers. He was everything that a girl would want in a guy: cute, thoughtful, kind, funny, easygoing, and strong. There was just one problem. Kevin was gay. Shame really, but I was happy for him. He and his boyfriend, David, had been together for over a year now. I was hoping for a good ending for them. David was, actually, the reason that Kevin was a psychic. Kev had saved David from getting hit by a car a few months ago, and Kev had gotten hit instead, sustaining a pretty serious head injury. Now, Kevin could find things. Well, lost things, precisely. All he had to do was know what it, or who, looked like. You have no idea how many car keys he's been asked to track down. _

_My ribs had no chance to recover from Kevin's assault since I was grabbed around the waist and spun around by Brian Gallagher._

_I knew it was Brian because only he would do such a dangerous thing like invade my personal space._

_Then again, he usually got away with it because of his devil may care grin. Twenty nine years old and the guy still acted like a big kid. A really big kid. Brian was easily six foot five, a football star in college. Now, he ran a successful restaurant in California. He was a phenomenal cook. It was something he'd learned to do when he was in prison for grand theft auto. Yes, Brian is an ex-con, but he's a loveable ex-con. The only reason he was prosecuted was because he refused to rat out his best friend and his little brother. He took the fall for them. I don't call that criminal, I call that love. So, I don't hold his jail time against him. Unfortunately for Brian, though, he wasn't the most attractive person and he had numerous tattoos that screamed jail bird. The shaved head didn't help either. Effect wise, it was very intimidating. Oddly enough, Brian was the healer of our little group. He could lay hands on someone and heal their wounds, take their pain. _

_Life and its ironies._

_Natalie Frost's greeting was far less exuberant than Brian's, but no less friendly. She clasped my hand between both of hers and smiled widely with her hello, wrinkled hands soft and warm to the touch. Natty was sixty three years old and still feisty, working as a waitress in an old diner and bar in the middle of Chicago. She also owned the pub, but didn't publicize that fact. People were her interest, not paperwork, so she liked to serve them and listen to them if they wanted to talk. Fluffy white hair and tanned skin contrasted nicely with her loud pink shirt and black skirt, white apron still tied around her waist. Patient to a fault, knitting was her favorite hobby, and most of my winter socks and sweaters and mittens were the product of her labor. She was also clairvoyant. Always, she was receiving random bits of information. Natty was able to enter your kitchen and, possibly, just know what you had for breakfast three days before. There was no rhyme or reason to her power, but it was useful at times._

_Suddenly, I was seized from behind, two cocoa colored arms wrapping around my shoulders and almost chocking me. Dr. Angel Moore's long crimson nails scraped my skin lightly as she spun me around and shook me by the shoulders firmly, demanding to know why I hadn't called her. A former prostitute, Angie is my therapist now. She got her degree really young, about twenty one, after she finally got herself off the streets using some of her earnings. Three years later, she was part of a successful clinic in San Diego that specialized in sex therapy. I'd met her while I was working a serial rape case about two years ago. She was probably one of the most aggressive people I knew and I'd learned some of my more colorful phrases from her. Her curly black hair had subtle red highlights, the same shade as her nail polish and her crimson blouse. The color complimented her skin tone wonderfully. Always, Angie favored dark colors, saying that they usually showed how she was feeling at the time. Liquid dark brown eyes sparked into my own, reflecting her power. You see, Angel is a pyrokenetic, able to conjure and bend fire to her will. _

_A polite tap on my shoulder turned me around again, and I came face to face with Jonathon. A shy librarian with glasses, Jonathon Brenton was pretty much the opposite of fiery Angel. He was an expert in ancient civilizations and theology and philosophy, but not quick to share that knowledge unless specifically asked to. He was fifty four years old, already very overweight, had pale and pasty skin, and was very easy to stereotype. He didn't mind though. But I've never been able to figure out if he didn't really mind, or if he was just afraid to say that he did mind. So, I tried not to tease him and neither did anybody else I knew. He was a kind man who saw the future but buried himself constantly in the past. Jon was pre-cognitive, but he was an open psychic. Because of that, he never knew when a vision was going to strike, and they didn't occur often. They were also seldom relevant since any future can be changed, or so Jon told me. _

_I clasped Jonathon's between my own, knowing that I wouldn't have a vision here by touching things. One of the few places where that could happen. These people, different as they were, were my most trusted friends. Knowing the world I saw, and I'm not talking about the cop part. They knew what it was like to lose control of your power, what it was like to try and pretend that you were no different than anyone else. We all knew each other's stories, knew each other's most secret horrors. I loved them all like family._

_Especially the last person that came up to say hello._

_Wrapping her arms around my waist and barely managing it, the six year old brunette girl chirped a happy and cheerful salutation. Her white dress was spotless and a bit lacy, and white and pink flowers were woven in her tresses. Blue eyes sparkling with giggles not yet voiced, Danielle Rainer smiled up at me, asking me to pick her up. Complying earned me another, brighter smile and a laugh that reminded me of sunshine. Danny was the light of everyone's life, the embodiment of everything that I wanted to protect in this world. People like Danny and the moments that they bestow upon the rest of the world are the reason that I work so hard to catch monsters. Unfortunately, Danny wasn't completely untouched by the real world. No medium can be. Seeing dead people all the time and having them unload their woes on you is not something that leaves you innocent. But she was always smiling. Always._

"_Alright," Angie said forcefully, sitting down on a plush chair, "No more killing time. What's it you need us for, Cass? I ain't got time to waste dreaming. I have to be available to all my patients, not just the most fucked up one."_

_I stuck out my tongue at her, glaring. "I am not the most insane one you've got. What about that one girl who was convinced that having sex would open a gate to Hell and dump her sinning ass into the burning pit?"_

"_I fixed her. You, on the other hand, are still fucked, and fucked sideways at that."_

"_Language," Fiona warned, looking pointedly at the young girl in my arms. Danielle just smiled back and giggled. Somehow, I don't think she's that bothered by it. Ghosts have said worse to her, I know._

"_My powers are doing strange things," I admitted. I set Danny down in the chair next to Angie and then took my own seat across from them in between Kev and Fi. _

_While Kevin reached over and placed a hand on my arm, Maggie asked in a concerned voice, "What do you mean?"_

"_My visions are getting more intense than usual. And, just a couple days ago, I was possessed by something I touched, by the emotions it held. That's never happened. Never. And some freaky stuff has been happening in my dreams too. I keep connecting to someone, and I shouldn't be. That's not my thing. At all." My voice was bewildered, but firm. I was confused in a major way, but I had confidence in my friends. They could tell me what the hell was going on._

_I left out the hospital visit._

"_Who are you connecting to?" Kevin asked, curious. _

"_Is that important?" I asked back, unwilling to go into details about the whole Krad and Hiwatari thing. _

_Natty spoke up from her corner. "It might be, hon. It may just be like me an' my customers, except you're just getting somethin' real specific."_

"_Well…" I began hesitantly. How to say this?_

"_You don't want to tell us this part?" Karla inquired slyly, smiling knowingly._

_Shit. Not the right interpretation. "Karla, it's not what you—"_

_Kevin didn't let me finish. "Ah," he drawled out, eyes lighting up. "You've met someone. Is he cute?"_

_Without thinking, I answered, "Hell yes." Ack! No! "I mean, well yeah, but that's not who I'm meeting in the dreamscape."_

"_Tell me about him," Kev said immediately, not acknowledging the rest of my response after confirming Hiwatari's good looks._

_At the same time, Jon invited quietly, "Then tell us who the other dreamer is."_

_Ignoring Kevin, I said, "Well, it's a bit complicated to explain."_

_Karla and Angie both snapped at me to get on with it._

_I told them. "It started like this…" Words poured out of my mouth, stumbling over each other to get out. I also added all of my experiences with Hiwatari and Krad. Unlike Hiwatari, however, I couldn't make it sound like a good story, couldn't captivate my audience with my voice and eyes alone. The story is what entranced them, not my skill in telling it. I told it in true cop fashion: heavy on facts, low on filler. No fun adjectives for me._

_Again, I left out my hospital visits. No need to really worry them. I already knew what they'd say anyway._

"_You're shittin' me," Angie muttered, fascinated, after I'd finished. Karla added her own expletives into the silence as well. Other than that, no one spoke for a long while. _

_The silence stretched tenuously but not uncomfortably. We'd known each other for too long, and far too well, for there to be an uncomfortable silence. It was companionable and warm, thoughtful. _

_Hugging her little body tightly, Danny broke the quiet, whispering, "That's so sad. And you got hurt to Cassie!"_

_Getting up, I curled up in her chair with her and stroked her brown curls reassuringly. "I'm okay, sweetheart. No worries."_

"_Krad, huh?" Brian grunted, rolling his thick tattooed neck, while I shifted into a more comforting position in the huge puffy chair with Danny "Sounds like a right bastard, hurt'n you like that."_

_Fiona added, "Ba' he did save har life, too." She sounded confused._

_Join the club._

"_I would rather be hearing about this Hiwatari guy," Kevin piped up._

"_It would be nice," I growled, "if we could leave Hiwatari out of this on a personal level. Really, really nice." Pointedly, I glared at Kev, hoping he would get the hint._

"_Do I at least get to meet him eventually?" _

_Snapping, I barked, "No!" Okay. Deep, calming breaths, Cassie. "Kev, if something comes of it, which I severely doubt, then you can talk to him or something." There. No promises._

"_What about me?" Danny demanded, young voice shrill. _

_Great. Just great. "Yes, yes, you too. You can talk to him too, if anything does happen."_

"_Interesting as this is," Karla sighed, "How 'bout we get back to Cass's problem?"_

_Thank you, Karla._

_Surprising everyone, Jon spoke up, albeit quietly. "It sounds like a very complicated curse, though I've never heard of anything like it before. Japanese culture is not where my expertise lie, you understand. However, other civilizations have similar things, though the curses are usually for causing madness or death. The Sacred Maiden part is the most interesting and unique thing about it though. Rarely do you see love breaking curses outside of fairy tales."_

_Shrugging, I smiled slightly. "Snow White always was one of my favorites. Not the Grimm version though. I liked the Grimm version of almost every other tale except for Snow White."_

_Jon snorted good-naturedly. "You've been corrupted by the Disney rubbish."_

"_Maybe," I admitted with a wider grin. "I don't mind, though."_

_Maggie shook her head, "You always were a kid at heart, weren't you. Despite it all."_

"_She's not a kid at heart, Mags," Kevin objected before I could. "She's just a romantic."_

_Kevin, you dirty traitor. "I am not a romantic!" I protested. _

_Kevin gave me a critical look that I'd seen many times before. I tend to bring out reaction like that in people, even my best friend. "Cassie," he stated, "You. Like. Snow. White." Each word was punctuated very carefully to emphasize my apparent stupidity. "Therefore, you are a romantic."_

_Damn him. "I'm not," I grumbled petulantly. "I always liked the dwarves."_

"_Liar," he teased._

"_Kev, shut up before she hits you," Angie advised._

"_I'm still waiting for us to help Cassie with her psychic problem," Karla interjected grumpily. "I've got to be up again in two hours for some audition. We can talk about her nonexistent love life later."_

"_I resent that!" I snapped. When everyone just stared at me, I asked, "Am I really that pathetic?"_

"_Sorry, babe," Brian grinned._

"_I hate you all."_

_Scoffing, Kevin said, "Don't kid yourself."_

_Little body shaking with amusement, Danny giggled nonstop, hands covering her mouth in a vain attempt to stifle the flood of laughter._

_Fiona cut off my rebuttal, which I swear I had something good for, by glaring us all down and saying "Enough, children," in her mother voice. No one with any sense would disobey that tone of hers. _

_We all had sense. A lot of sense._

"_Now," she continued, "Aih think Aih've got an ans'er for ya, Cassandra. But first, how old ah ya?"_

_Okay. Strange question. "I'll be sixteen in about three months. Why?" Is Fiona going senile on me..?_

"_Which means that ya've been a fully active psychic for..?"_

"_Almost seven years," I filled in promptly. She already knew that… It's not that big a deal._

"_Then Aih'd say ya're overdue for some growth," Fiona said lightly. _

_Jon, Maggie, Natty, and Brian all smiled. _

"_Ah," Natty said, "that makes sense." I must have looked clueless, because she continued on, "Our powers evolve, hon. I wasn't always clairvoyant. I started off as a telepath, a weak one. But, over time, it just changed. No real rhyme or reason to it. It just did."_

_Jon picked up for her, "You started off as just an empath who, on occasion, saw things when you touched something, Cassandra. Now, however, your powers are more geared to your visions since that's the power that you rely on the most in your life. Your primary ability is still sensing emotions and sensations, but your secondary ability grew stronger than it was in the beginning, because you needed it to be."_

"_An' besides that, Aih suspect that ya connected with this boy and his…other half," Fi worded out slowly, sounding as if she was still thinking this all through for herself, "Ya reached out unconsciously t' them, like ya did to all o' us, and, like us, they responded. Ya've become extremely sensitive, Cassandra, more so than ya used to be. Eventually, Aih suspect that ya'll come into somethin' akin to telepathy, but' on a far more intimate level. Aih actually wouldn't be all that surprised if ya followed the path Brian did and end up a healer. Though, tha' would probably happen later in yar life, when ya are no longer workin' actively for the police."_

_What? "Brian, you used to be an empath?" That's a new bit of info._

"_You bet, and I hated it," the big chef commented ruefully. "I wouldn't want that hell back for all the gold in Fort Knox. Prison was a right ole time with that ability." Sarcasm dripped off his words thickly._

_Huh. Go figure. "And I'm just finding this out now because...?"_

"_You never asked."_

_Well that's a dumb excuse._

"_That's a sucky reason," Kevin grumbled._

_Kevin and I didn't need to be telepaths. See, we already think alike._

"_So tha' takes care of tha'," Fi ground out between clenched teeth. Even her outstanding patience has its limits. _

"_So, this is perfectly normal?" I inquired. And here I was worrying for no reason._

"_Seems to be," Maggie replied placidly._

"_I guess that means that this meeting is officially over," Karla declared._

"_Aw…" Danny whined, big blue eyes filling up. "I don't wanna go home yet! I wanna stay here with you guys!" She sprang out of my grasp as everyone got to there feet and placed her little fists on her hips. "No one calls me!" she complained loudly, stomping her foot for emphasis._

_I hate guilt._

_Really hate guilt._

_But there was no help for it, none at all. "Sweetheart, we have to get back to our own dreams. I have a bad guy to catch, Karla has a meeting," I tried explaining._

_A defiant six-year-old glower was her response._

_Swooping down, Angie saved my inexperienced ass and picked Danny up easily. "Danny-girl," she said sternly, "I want to see everyone more too, but they have lives. I can't expect them to always plan their lives around my needs. That's not how it works. I don't have to like that, but it doesn't change anything. Okay? I promise that we'll get together soon."_

_Curly hair bouncing, Danny nodded slowly. "You promise?"_

_We all promised. _

_Everyone wished me luck and said good-bye to each other. Waves and handshakes and hugs and kisses. The same way we'd greeted each other. _

_And then I went back to my garden, dissolving it in my mind's eye so I could sleep undisturbed. _

_Dawn couldn't come soon enough.

* * *

_

Shrieking, my alarm clock yanked me out of a sound sleep at six o'clock on the nose. Yamakawa would probably be here in an hour or something. Pushing back the bed covers, I discovered that not only did my entire body ache and that my chest felt like an elephant had sat on it, but white flakes cracked and fell off my skin in multitudes.

Ugh. Salt. Must shower…

Half-crawling, I dragged myself into the bathroom, stripping off my salt-stiff clothes and turning on the shower. While the water warmed up, I examined my body in the full length mirror fixed to the back of the door. I could barely find my skin under the dried salt and contusions. There were also a good number of scratches and scrapes on my back and arms, not to mention my knee.

It's going to be a bitch to clean those.

I stepped into the shower, relishing in the lava hot water, even if it stung horribly.

Day Five.

Including today, there were three days left. Three days left for Miyo to live.

Three days.

* * *

(A.N.) Please REVIEW! I am still promising cyber-cookies! Love!


	20. Chapter 19

Disclaimer: Master Luke, wait for me!

Touch

Chapter 19

(A.N.) Here at long last: chapter 19! Hope you all enjoy it, and that everyone sticks around as I start to draw this story to a close. There should be about three or four more chapter after this one. Much love and thanks to everyone who's reviewed and to my awesome beta, Serpent of Slytherin.

* * *

The swan was crying again, causing her skin to blotch and her eyes to redden and her nose to run. She was _ruining_ herself, _destroying_ all his meticulous and beautiful work. He'd painstakingly cut her skin and tattooed her with dyes he'd managed to procure. He'd carved designs of magnificence into her body with passionate care. Not to mention there was an absolutely lovely necklace of burns around her lovely, delicate throat, contrasting perfectly with her white skin. No part of her was untouched by his artist's hands.

_Not one part._

But now, she was ruining it with her wretched tears!

Swiftly, he grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her just hard enough tot jostle her head about. The Hikari did not want to cause any marks that he hadn't planned out first. No, he must be gentle, he cautioned himself diligently. He had to remember that, or he'd end up breaking her.

Though it wouldn't be the first time he'd broken a canvas.

"_Dame desu_," he told her quietly, "_Naite wa ikemasen_." He couldn't allow her to cry. He wouldn't. He kept his gravelly voice low and firm, rough hands holder in place with a powerful and stone like finality.

No escape. No disobedience. No chance.

No chance at all.

The swan, "Miyo" he'd found out unintentionally, stilled and dammed up her messy tears. Hollow eyed, she did nothing but cower from him.

Leaving her briefly, the Hikari returned and put a cold cloth over her face and pressed down lightly. It would return her face to its former glory. And soon… Soon this magnificent canvas could be displayed. A wonderful day.

Soon, but not yet. Seven days of preparation. Six days of rest and selection. His cycle. Her cycle. One. Complete and the same. Thirteen days in all. That must _not_ change. He was adamant about that.

Her loving hands had shaped this body in seven days. She had chosen the materials and tools, had gathered her glorious power in six.

Thirteen was the magic number.

It would please Her. And he _must_ please Her. No _him_, but _Her_.

If only She hadn't sealed the tokens away!

She must not have known, the Hikari thought desperately, or She would not have hidden them from me. If She did know, then it was a test. A test of his love and devotion. A test of worthiness. He would pass. He _must_ pass, so he left his canvases as close to those hallow places of secrets as he could. The gifts he'd given Her a lifetime ago were remembered.

Forgiveness. Beauty. _Power._

He _must_ have them, no matter what the Stranger said. The Hikari would give anything for those things. And only _She _could give them to him if he proved himself to Her.

The Stranger couldn't.

His obsessions would not be stopped. Anything that tried to keep him from his art would be destroyed without hesitation.

But, for now, he could only focus all his violently passionate care on the swan.

A caress. An almost rough shove to the floor.

A thrust. Then another. A slow, hard pace.

A little bit of blood.

He was pleased that she didn't begin to cry again; glad she realized that she was his. That he could do whatever he wanted with her.

Body and soul.

Just as he belonged to Her. His obsession, his art, was all for Her.

A feeling of completion filled him for a brief moment of elation, but died quickly.

The sun was rising.

_Damn sun! Why? Why must I be bound thus?_ the Hikari cursed silently.

Without a word, he left. Vanished into the shadows as if by magic.

And his precious swan curled her violated body into itself, crying the dry, soundless, and hopeless sobs of a woman running out of time.

* * *

The low morale of the police officers rod the air and invaded my mind. Their anger, their frustration, their utter lack of hope was deafening to my senses. And I was shielding harder than I usually did. My entire body was till protesting anytime I moved, too. Stupid rocks. Always there for me to get smashed against.

My head was also pounding mercilessly like a son of a bitch.

And I was out of Advil, with not time to spare to get another bottle. Not a good omen for the rest of the day.

We had no clues as of yet. Hiwatari was reading Kouriko's journal in his office, but I don't know what good that'll do us. Even if we had the killer's full name, or even a motive, it wouldn't save Miyo.

And saving her was my number one priority.

Killing—I mean, _catching_—this psychotic bastard was second on my list. The life of the victim is always more important than catching the perp.

Always.

Stiffly, I lowered my aching body into a chair in the conference room, tossing my jacket carelessly over the back. The yellow of the letters that spelled out my last name and "F.B.I." hurt my eyes. Scanning the filled up cork and white boards, I could only feel despair eating away at my heart. Nothing. Nothing that could tell us where the sick fuck was keeping her.

Next, I surveyed the reports on the table in front of me. They were all labeled neatly, but I didn't understand most of the kanji. The only things I could recognize with reasonable accuracy were dates. Spotting the one folder that was dated, I think, yesterday, I pulled it toward me and prayed I could read something.

Opening the file revealed photographs.

Thank God.

They were all shots of the interior of the Art Museum, every room and exhibit carefully documented. Perhaps useful.

Maybe.

Standing (unfortunately), I tugged the last empty cork board out form behind a mess of boxes and haphazardly stacked papers. Methodically, I began tacking each image to the board, slowly creating a collage. I pulled out a blueprint, also included in the folder, and labeled each room and corresponding photo accordingly. The entrance hall, the India exhibit…

There was _nothing_, nothing at all. Just a collection of meaningless pictures.

I would have to go there myself. It was the only way I could find the truth.

Hurriedly, I dashed out of the conference room, grabbing my jacket along the way. "Yamakawa!" I called out.

He popped out from behind his desk, immediately at attention. "_Hai._"

"Can you get the car? I'm going to go grab Hiwatari and then we're heading to the museum."

"Does the _Commander_ know that?" Yamakawa asked, stoic but with a hint of amusement flashing in his dark eyes.

"He will in a minute." My laughter was not so tidily hid. I didn't even bother to try, actually. Moments when I was truly amused were rare when I was in the middle of a case. Why should I hide it? Humor is all that keeps me from going crazy.

"Well, before you go to _inform_ him," Yamakawa said with a miniscule grin, "you may want to open this." A bit formally, he handed me a medium sized box wrapped with brown packaging tape and paper with both hands. An official looking stamp marked the package as property of the F.B.I. and an over-night mail order.

Good for Corvin.

"What's in it?" Yamakawa asked, curiosity barely covered by professionalism. Though, I would have felt his interest anyway, even if he completely buried it in politeness.

Tearing paper up efficiently, I unwrapped the box with minimal difficulty. Then I encountered the tape.

There was an ungodly amount of it.

Renehan, the bastard, must have wrapped it. Only he would be evil and stupid enough to do such a thing.

After struggling pitifully for ten minutes with my teeth and a ballpoint pen which broke in half during my efforts, I was able to open the damn thing and pry out the contents.

Another box. Wrapped in tape. And twine.

Renehan.

Son of a _bitch_.

Another five minutes of fighting the sticky tape later, I managed to wrestle the second box open with a metal nail file. I was swearing a mile a minutes by the time I did, sensing Renehan's satisfied amusement that I rolled off the box in thick waves. Evil, perverted man. "I swear," I muttered under my breath, "if there is a studded leather thong in here, I'll make a woman out of him."

"Simon-_san_?" Hiwatari's cool inquiring voice interrupted the rest of my tirade before I even warmed up.

I blushed. Goddamn it all!

Clearing my throat, I said as evenly as I could, "I'm fine."

"I'm sure," was Hiwatari's dry reply.

Still flushed from my battle with the box and my embarrassment, I reached into the box and breathed a relieved sigh when I pulled out an economy sized bottle of Advil, a pair of long leather gloves, and an automatic pistol.

…An another box?

But no leather thong.

Renehan could stay a man for a while longer. Lucky him.

The last box was far easier to open since it only had Scotch tape holding it closed, not industrial strength duct tape. Quickly, I sliced through the thin tape with the nail file. I reached inside and felt around until I felt I was able to wrap my fingers around something made of a silky feeling cloth. I pulled it out slowly, caution making me shield it from sight with my body.

Please don't be…

It wasn't a leather thong.

It was a black satin one.

Not so lucky after all.

With lightning speed, I shoved the stupid thing back into its deceptive container. I'm going to _kill_ that man! _After_ I castrate him with a broken bottle, that is.

"What is it?" Hiwatari asked from behind me.

"Nothing!" I snapped. "Just Renehan being an annoying sex-crazed maniac."

…Did I just say that out loud?

The absolute silence answered that question for me.

Shit.

"Okay, time to go!" I announced, hoping dearly my earlier comment was going to be ignored. Snatching the useful items that Corvin had sent me, I practically ran out the doors of the station, not even waiting for either of them to argue with my sudden departure.

I had a feeling that the care ride to the Museum was going to be awkward as hell.

I was right.

oOo

The inside of the Art Museum was cool to the point of being too cold. The air was dry, the better for preservation of all the priceless artifacts stored within its walls. It seemed even colder now that I was here with just two other people, not a gaggle of talkative teenagers. We had closed down certain entrances and exhibits, working through each room. The forensics team was under strict orders to process the hell out every square inch. The Museum was still open to the public, though not many came now that the police were here to follow up on the murders. It seemed empty. Only the statues and painting watched us, their unseeing vision seeming to follow me wherever I stepped.

It was creepy. I couldn't imagine being the night watchman.

I flexed my fingers anxiously; comforted by the much missed sensation of supple leather rather than flimsy cotton. I'd shoved the Advil in my messenger bag after taking three pills, and the Model 26 baby Glock went into a second holster that I carried with me. I now had the Berretta under my left arm and the Glock in the small of my back, both safely hidden by my black windbreaker. Their presence was more reassuring than the leather of my gloves could ever be.

I flashed my badge at the security guard so that I could bring my weapons into the Museum with me. Hiwatari and Yamakawa didn't have to since they were recognized by the guard. Plus, I don't think Hiwatari carries a gun. If he does, then he hides it extremely well.

Adjusting the strap of my bag so that it laid crosswise over my chest from my left shoulder, I yanked my new gloves off. There was some resistance since I hadn't broken them in yet. They even had that new leather smell. I shoved them into the bag and let my uncovered hands hang loosely by my sides, then closed my eyes.

The initial clamor of impressions made my dulled headache flare up again. Too many people came here everyday…

**Pretty!**

**I want one, Mommy!**

**Oh look, dear, isn't that one just lovely?**

I shook my head and closed my wall a little bit, trying to filter through all the emotions. Where are you, Hikari? Where are you..? I know you're here…that you _were_ here… Come on…tell me…

There. I know this. I know this mind, this heart. It's him. My head snapped to the side like a dog that'd caught a scent.

"Did you find him?" Hiwatari asked quietly.

I opened my eyes and walked, following the thread. With Hiwatari and Yamakawa following, I led the way into a dark corridor with African masks displayed on the walls. Our footsteps echoed loudly off the walls while the faces of demons watched us with empty eyes sockets.

Cutting through the sound of our pounding steps, Yamakawa said quietly, "I've always wondered, _Tantei_, how do you always pinpoint his signature out of hundreds of other impressions? Does he actually feel different?"

"Everyone has their own feel to them. It's the same as with their voice or their fingerprints. Each one is distinct and separate from everyone else's, even if there are similar emotional patterns," I answered distractedly, turning into a large room filled with Chinese pottery.

"What does he fell like?" Hiwatari asked. I caught the flash of his glasses out of the corner of my eye. There was a drawn look to his face, as if he already knew the answer.

"If I had to describe it, I would have to say that it's a combination of fire, blood, and black water. The heat of the flames, the smell of the blood, the eternal darkness of the ocean's depths. But it's more than that. It's tainted… Evil. Twisted. That's as close as I can get with words. I don't think that your psychic signature is meant to be described though. It's just something that you feel. There _are_ no words for it, really."

Hiwatari nodded in understanding, the skin around his eyes tight. He didn't like my answer for some reason. Maybe because this killer was some sort of ancestor? Whatever the reason, I could feel his tension.

It made my skin itch.

Shrugging it off, I kept leading them forward through the corridors and display areas, doggedly on the trail. He must have been in every room here. There was no place that didn't hold his essence. Not one. It was unnerving to think that he had wandered so much in a place full of innocent people. Any of them could have been his next victim. The ones who were safe in their homes didn't know how lucky they were.

The threads led me to the newest exhibit, the one that my class had come to see on the field trip. I stepped into the room and choked, stopping dead in my tracks.

He _loves_ this room. He's always here, leaving his psychic scent to permeate the air.

He chose them here. The victims.

"Simon-_san_?" Hiwatari prompted from my side.

I resisted the urge to sway on the spot. "He hunts here," I whispered. Clawing at my mind, thick tendrils of the Hikari's emotions swirled around me, slipping through my wall. I hadn't shut my defenses fast enough. The emotions bounced around my head, feeding words into my mouth. "Such pretty canvases…" I walked forward, smiling at something I couldn't see. "Beautiful. The lights hit their shining hair, make their eyes sparkle. I must have them. Perfection wouldn't be so hard to achieve using them. In her image…" I knew the words weren't mine, but I couldn't stop them from coming out. Once his emotions had wormed their way in, the only thing I could do was let them dissipate naturally. Images swam at the edge of my vision.

Hiwatari was at my side again, hovering. For a moment, I thought he would touch me, but he didn't. Instead, he began to ask questions quietly, seeming to know that I was feeling the killer far more intimately than usual. "Why them? Why those girls?"

"They were perfect," I answered, knowing that was the reason. It wasn't a very clear one though.

"What made them perfect?" Hiwatari pursued.

My lips pursed together tightly. "They look like her, and that is very important. She must know that I am doing this for her, so all the canvases must resemble her." The "her" had to be Kouriko.

Leaning closer, Hiwatari asked the one question I'd been hoping he would. "Where are you watching them from?"

I caught and held on to one image, feeling the satisfaction that came with it. A young girl was standing amongst the crowd, looking up at me. Behind her, I could see a wall of glass display cases, and beyond that I saw paintings on the wall. The image wavered tremendously, and then faded. With purposeful steps, I walked around the display case and came face to face with the statue.

"_Koko de_?" Hiwatari asked, looking around intently.

"No," I responded. The last time, I hadn't touched the statue. I wish I had. "He was here." I raised my hand and pressed it against the lifelike stone.

It bit into my fingers.

**Agony burns me, sears my very soul. It is painful to die. And it is extremely painful to live again. **

**The Stranger is smiling at me from the shadows, bright red blood dripping down from a cut in his palm. I have been released.**

**I have been freed.**

"**Kill Niwa Daisuke," the Stranger says, holding up a picture. **

**Amazingly life like. The artist is a master.**

**I nod at the Stranger as he promises me more freedom in exchange for killing this boy. But, I am lying to him. I don't kill. I create. Art is my passion and this Niwa Daisuke is not a canvas worthy of Her. It is not worthy of Kouriko. **

"**You will only have the nights to fulfill your task," the Stranger informs me. "Make use of your time." Then he is gone.**

**I am alone.**

**Smiling, I move my strange body. Kouriko created this for me. She must have known that I would be awakened. I would show her how talented I was. I am not a monster. I am a Hikari. I am Hikari Shoji and I am an artist. I am talented.**

**I would show them, show them all. **

**I would have my powers again. I would paint and sculpt. All for Her. **

…**But where?**

**Memories flash in my mind, and I know. My old workshop, under the cliffs. That place will be absolutely perfect. **

**My feet, these strange stone feet, may not remember the way, but my mind does. **

**This is only the beginning.**

"I know where she is!" I yelled as soon as the vision was gone from me. I stumbled back from the statue, shivering. Sick bastard.

"Where?" Hiwatari was there, steadying me. I was surprised from the contact at first, but then welcomed it. It was nice to know that someone was here.

"The cliffs. There's a workshop in the cliffs," I repeated from my vision.

"What cliffs?"

I frowned. "I'm not entirely sure. But I know the way, sort of."

"Good enough." Hiwatari began leading me out of the room, hand still around my arm.

I had a lead at last.

And someone to follow it with.

* * *

(A.N.) Please be awesome and review! (holds out a plate of cookies)


	21. Chapter 20

Disclaimer: beep beep blip squeak Hello to you too, R2D2….

Chapter 20

(A.N.) I'm sorry it took me so long to update! School and writer's block has been preventing me from writing. Thanks to everyone who reviewed (all five of you...) and to my wonderful beta/muse, Serpent of Slytherin. And without any further ado, here's the chapter!

* * *

I'm pretty sure that these cliffs are haunted, and I don't say that lightly. There was something infinitely lonely about the place. The way that the wind whistled its eerie tune, the way the sound of the crashing waves seemed to steal away our words. Even the very stone was cold and ghostly, holding not even the slightest happy impression in them. All I could feel from the cliffs was pain. A screaming, never ending pain that was tearing my heart to pieces. I didn't know if the pain belonged to the victims or to the killer. The two agonies were so intermingled that it was hard to differentiate between them.

Slowly, the sun was just beginning to set, gilding the stone, police officers, and cruisers in gold. We'd been at this all day. Every available officer was searching. I'd been able to narrow down this stretch of cliff for the searchers, but nothing had been found yet. No hidden doors, no drag trails, no foot prints. It was unnatural. This close to a town, you would think that the cliffs would show some sign of human taint. But it didn't. It was just Nature, strong and silent to my ears.

I was staying as far from the cliff edge as I could possibly get myself while still being useful to the searchers who were repelling down the rocky side. Needless to say, I experienced severe bouts of vertigo when I got too close to the damn edge. It was days like this that I sincerely hated my phobia.

The seconds ticked by with no discoveries in sight. Hiwatari was farther down the way, barking orders to other teams on his cell phone. I haven't the faintest clue what he was saying, but it wasn't happy or triumphant. The other teams weren't finding anything good either. God help us.

Or rather, God help Miyo. She's the one who'll need it if we can't get to her before night falls and Hikari Shoji returns to her. I had a bad feeling that the guards Hiwatari had posted inside the exhibit at the museum were going to do jack shit against this monster. How do humans stand against stone?

Easy answer: they can't.

Equipping them with some high powered firearms was the best I could suggest, hoping that we found Miyo before the Hikari woke up (or whatever exactly happens to him that makes him not stone anymore).

Wearily, I signaled Hiwatari with a wave, jogging over to him. He flicked his cell closed. "Nothing, huh?" I asked softly, leaning towards him. Didn't want to ruin the tiny bit of morale left in our officers.

"Nothing," he confirmed. He rubbed a hand over his face, pinching the bridge of his nose. Straitening his glasses, he looked at me for a moment in silence then asked, "Are you getting anything out of this place?"

I shook my head. "I wish. All that's here is pain, Hiwatari. It hurts to probe it, but I've tried. If there's something else here, it's so buried under the agony that I can't find it."

A pair of repellers came up from their run, letting two fresh mountain climbers replace them. If only they could just effortlessly sore through the ocean air, searching with hands and eyes that don't need to be concerned with ropes and pulleys.

Hot damn!

"Give me you're phone," I demanded of Hiwatari, holding out my hand.

Without a word, he slapped the cell into my palm. He watched with what I perceived as interest as I scrolled through his digital phonebook. It took me a little bit to sort through the hiragana and kanji, but I managed to find Niwa Daisuke's phone number. I knew Hiwatari would have it. Don't ask me how, but I just knew. I punched the call button and waited, tapping my foot at top speed, as the phone rang.

And rang.

And rang.

And…

"_Moshi moshi_," a woman's finally answered.

Hope she speaks English. I'm going to feel like an idiot if she can't, or if I have to attempt speaking my broken Japanese. "Is Niwa Daisuke available?"

Hiwatari's eyes locked on me. A cross between a glare and an appraising look, I think.

There are angels looking out for me. The woman switched languages easily, replying, "Hold on a minute." It was heavily accented, but perfectly understandable. Faintly, I could hear her calling for Daisuke to answer the phone.

Detecting the click of someone picking up and another snick sound from hanging up, I immediately launched into my grand master plan. "Niwa, I need Dark. Now. As in a week ago."

Some spluttering. "_Da—dare wa_?"

"It's Cassandra Simon, Niwa. Look, I know that this is really sudden and out of the blue, and I know that Dark's supposed to be all covert and everything, but I need some airborne eyes pronto. Hiwatari's a tad unavailable for that at the moment. Besides, I would rather work with someone who was mentally stable." I said all of if without taking a breath. Maybe that was a bit much for the first explanation?

"B-but what for?" Niwa asked, sounding excessively confused.

Yeah. Too much.

Hiwatari was shaking his head at me.

I took a deep breath. "Listen, Niwa. You know I'm with the F.B.I. Dark knows, at least. Surely he let you in on that one?"

"Yeah, he did, but what…?" I think he was so taken aback from my openness about knowing Dark that he forgot that he was supposed to be denying his connection to the thief.

"I'm here to help solve the murders. I've been helping with the investigation since I got here and we're _so close_, Niwa. A hair's breadth away. We just can't find the entrance to his little shop of horrors. We need help. _Airborne_ help. Do you understand?"

Please, please, please, please…

The silence on Niwa's end stretched unbearably for three milliseconds. "We'll be there, but you won't see us. If we find something, we'll let you know. I don't know how yet. Dark and I will think of something."

"Thanks," I breathed out. A little bit of hope flooded through my heart.

I think Niwa was smiling when he said good-bye.

Handing the phone back to Hiwatari with a smile of my own, I went back to the squad of officers I was in charge of and started moving them farther down the cliff. We still had a lot of ground to cover. I kept one eye on the sky and another on my team, hand poised next to my walkie-talkie. My newfound hope was combating the pain of the rocks so it was easier to listen with my heart to the signatures.

Hurry up, Dark. Daylight's burning away.

* * *

Deep inside the cliff, Chigusa Miyo sat chained and curled on the rough floor, rocking back and forth. The bloodstains on the stone beneath her body didn't really bother her anymore. She was numbed to the initial terror she had felt when she'd first woken up in the dark space. She didn't know what time it was or how many days it had been since the Hikari had stolen her and killed her little brother. Time was relative to her. Moving forward some of the time, standing still others. But all too often, Miyo found herself stuck in that one, horrible moment when the Hikari slit her nine year old brother's throat. When the Hikari touched her, that's all she could think about. Those painter's hands had murdered her sunshine.

Even when he was raping her, that's all she could think.

Even when he cut her, that's all she could remember.

Miyo wasn't sure if that made the pain of her own torture more or less. She was starting to think that she didn't care anymore. Even if she somehow lived through this whole ordeal, the girl knew that she would kill herself. Regardless of whose hand completed the act, she didn't plan on living a second longer in this painful existence than she absolutely had to. Kiyoshi was waiting with their ancestors for her, smiling and laughing like always. She just knew it.

Of course, she was terrified of death. Who isn't? But that didn't mean that she wouldn't end her life if she had to. Miyo had always been told that she was a strong girl, a determined girl. And she was determined to die.

"Determined to die, ne?" she whispered to herself, voice cracking. Fresh tears welled up in her eyes and rolled down her sliced cheeks. The salt stung horribly. Her sobs echoed off the stone walls of her prison, the sound amplifying a hundred fold to her ears. It was a desperate noise. Hopeless.

"Wait for me, Kiyoshi," she called into the empty air. "I'm coming soon, just wait."

The ghostly howling of the wind was all that called back.

* * *

It took twenty minutes and the sun sinking another few centimeters in my vision for Dark to find the entrance. He threw tiny rocks at me and Hiwatari to get our attention, hiding behind some boulders and trees all the while. With an uncharacteristically serious expression, he informed us, "The entrance is in the cliff side. He probably has a ladder hidden somewhere nearby, but I didn't see it. Just go about thirty paces that way." He pointed to accompany the directions. "Then head down. You'll have to use the ropes or something."

My stomach did this neat little flip flop, constricting painfully. Ropes? Cliffs?

Damn.

"I'll stick around in case you need me," Dark said quietly. I had a feeling he was referring to the possibility of Krad making an unwanted appearance, but kept it to myself. We had to stay focused.

It's a really tall cliff…

No. Focus. Must focus.

Hiwatari nodded stiffly to Dark as the thief leapt into the air once more. I blinked and then Dark was gone. Just like magic. I blinked a few more times to make sure I wasn't just hallucinating in my current panic. He didn't reappear. Surprised, my heart rate kicked up more as it usually did when I encountered something weird.

This whole magic thing was going to take some getting used to.

Following Dark's directions, Hiwatari and I went thirty paces down the way. Then, we started organizing our men into teams. The first group was to wait for us here and control our rope so that we didn't die or anything. The second team was to wait up with the ambulances, which were parked by the command center up by the road. The third was to go to the museum and back up the current watchmen.

Nightfall was in a half and hour, at the most.

I buckled myself into the rock-climbing harness provided for me, figuring out the straps and clasps easily enough. It took me a few minutes to make sure that the draw for both my guns was uninhibited by the contraption, though. I have feeling that I'm not supposed to be cutting off my circulation. Maybe the straps were too tight? I glanced over at the edge of the cliff.

No. Never too tight.

The officers' tension was making me edgy too. It wasn't enough that I was scared out of my Goddamn mind. Oh no, other people's fear had to be thrown in just to make it more interesting. Sometimes, the Powers that Be can be extremely vindictive.

A safety rope was secured to my harness along with a light pack of useful items, and then the main line was placed in my hands. I was told to back off the cliff, just walking like I would walk backwards on a street. "Just don't look down," one of the more experienced climbers advised gruffly. "First time is really unbalancing if you keep looking down."

I backed over the edge, on the verge of hyperventilation.

The first thing I did was look down.

Almost instantly, dizziness made the world swim and my feet scrabbled frantically against rocky cliff face. I shut my eyes tightly, wanting nothing more than to be away from this place. Panic overrode my rationality and I shook uncontrollably. I was too high up. Too high. I was going to fall. I just knew I was.

Hiwatari's calm voice interrupted my terror. "Simon-_san_?"

"F-fine," I ground out between my clenched teeth.

"One foot at a time," he instructed, shifting so that we were side-by-side. "Look straight in front of you or look up. Imagine that you are only a few feet above the ground. As long as you don't constantly look down, you won't know the difference."

"I'll fall. I'll fall and be nothing but pulverized meat, just like Katherine." My voice was high and thin, panic lacing each syllable. No no no no no… "I don't want to fall…"

"You won't fall," Hiwatari reassured me, wrapping a hand around my tightly gripping ones. His voice enveloped me and warmth spread from the contact of his touch up my arms. "I won't let you fall. Do you trust me?"

Since I wasn't doing well with movement at the current moment, I wasn't looking at him, but I heard and felt his sincerity. "I trust you." I shouldn't have trusted him as much as I did. Not with the limited time I've known him. But the realization that he would catch me if I slipped and fell was more comforting than it really should've been. I leaned back a little, breathing harshly, and took a tiny step backwards.

Hiwatari coaxed me down the cliff for what I think was about twenty or thirty feet at least. A sudden motion from him halted my terrified progress. "_Koko_…" he murmured, one hand feeling the stones carefully.

It looked like a bunch of rock to me.

"You sure?" I asked breathlessly. My arms were shaking.

A faint gold light glowed around his searching hand, causing a similar reaction in the cliff. Red symbols shone briefly for a couple seconds, then dissolved. Along with the section of the cliff right in front of us. I started in surprise, swinging violently on my rope, panic again constricting my mind. I really was going to have to get used to this whole magic shindig. It kept popping up. Hiwatari tugged once on his safety rope to let the officers above that we had found the entrance, steadying me at the same time. "Calm down," he ordered firmly. "You're fine."

I took a deep breath, closing my eyes briefly. "Yeah… Yeah, I'm fine." I said it more for my benefit than his.

Agilely, he swung himself through the opening and unhooked himself from the ropes and slid out of his harness. With a calm strength in his eyes, he held out a hand to help me in. I hesitated for a moment, debating how much I really wanted to start swinging around again. But the lure of something solid to stand on and Hiwatari's beckoning hand was enough to draw me in. I took his hand, felt the pressure of his touch through my gloves, and let him pull me forward. Shocking really. I'd never accepted another person's hand for help before. Had I changed so much? Did I really feel that comfortable with Hiwatari?

Questions for another time. Once all this was over.

The sun was setting behind me, bathing the world in its blood red rays.

* * *

Magic roared around the Hikari, freeing his stone body for another night.

And he was angry.

That girl had touched him! He had felt something, something strange when she did. Her eyes had been consumed by the green-blue of her irises, an eerie phenomenon that made him wonder what she saw with such unseeing eyes.

And that Other had been with her! Wretched hypocrite! Tainted blood! Bastard angel-carrier! What did he know?!

_Nothing!_, the Hikari's mind screamed. That boy knew nothing of magic, nothing of beauty.

He knew nothing of perfection and devotion, not as the Hikari did.

With a strange grace, the Hikari drew the sharp stone knife at his waist and walked forward silently. No guard would keep him from his art. No one at all would stand in the way of his redemption.

Blood spattered across his face when he attacked the first guard. More blood splashed heavily over his hands and arms and chest when he tore out the man's intestines. Lowly peasants would not stop him! They were weak!

The Hikari was strong. As he always had known he was.

Another guard rushed him, drawing his weapon. The Hikari was a stranger to such a strange thing, but it didn't matter. He cut the man down before he could do anything with it.

Blood flowed freely, pooling elegantly on the marble floor.

"Beautiful," the Hikari murmured to himself, holding his crimson stained hands to the moonlight filtering through the windows. Blood was beautiful.

Death was exquisite. As it always had been, as he'd always known. It was a transformation that only he could manipulate correctly. Like phoenixes from ashes were his swans.

Footsteps coming.

No matter. The Hikari was ready to spill more blood.

As he always had.

* * *

The tunnel led farther into the cliff than I'd expected it to. No light reached us when Hiwatari and I finally reached a widening in the rock. Pain was radiating in waves from the walls around me and I had to force myself to dampen the effect. Pulling out our flashlights, we flicked them on and took in the scenery, so to speak. It took me only a couple seconds to wish I'd left this scenery alone.

Blood was painted on the walls in intricate swirls and designs. What looked like human skin covered with charcoal sketches was tacked up like a piece of parchment. More human skins were on the floor. I realized with a nauseous feeling in my stomach that they were meant to be rugs. Animal and human skulls alike were used as holders for paint brushes and other tools. Knives and swords were hung in brackets on the walls or stored neatly in freestanding shelving units. Shaking, I reached out and brushed my gloved fingertips over the skin on the wall. I shrieked with the voice that lanced through my head, screaming as I was skinned alive. Dropping my flashlight, I covered my ears to try and stop the screaming.

It didn't help. It still felt like a knife was scraping away my skin.

Hiwatari pulled me back sharply and I fell back onto him. I shook violently in his grip, praying rapidly, almost unconsciously, under my breath. "Hail Mary, full of grace…"

"What is it? Simon_-san_?" When I didn't answer except to pray some more, he dug his fingers into my shoulders. "What do you feel?"

"He skinned them alive," I whispered. "He skinned these people alive. They knew what he was doing to them. They screamed and screamed and screamed, but he just laughed. They kept screaming, over and over. They're still screaming. I can hear them, feel them." My eyes were filling up with tears. "They're in so much pain. Even after so much time."

Hiwatari turned me around to face him and bent down so that we were eye level with each other. When I tried to look down to get away from his intense gaze, he slid his fingers under my chin and forced my head back up. "You can't do anything for these victims right now, but we can still get to Chigusa Miyo before he kills her. We have to keep moving and you have to stop touching things. Do you understand?"

The screams were fading away now that I wasn't touching the skin. Hiwatari's voice replaced them, and it was much more welcome. So was his touch, but it was mostly his voice. "I understand." With effort, I pulled away from him, picking up my flashlight. "Let's go."

Another dark and dank tunnel later, we walked into a much larger room than the last one. It was both worse and better. There were no macabre things hanging on the walls or the floor. But it still smelled of death and terror. It felt like it too. The beam from my flashlight trembled in my shaking hands, flicking over the stone and wood table and cabinets. Faintly, the sound of sobbing reached my ears. Powerful, wrenching sobs of a broken soul.

Hiwatari heard them too and was moving forward in a flash. "Chigusa-_san_? _Doko de?_"

I rushed passed him, knowing already where she was. Her despair was calling to me like a homing beacon in a storm. I found her behind a large worktable in one corner, chained by her neck to the wall and completely naked. Blood was streaked down her skin and thin slashes covered her from head to toe. "Miyo?" I asked carefully, pulling my jacket off. "Miyo, can you understand me?"

Miyo lifted her head and looked at me with terrified eyes, uncomprehending I think, for a heartbeat. Then, she threw herself into me, wrapping her arms around my neck and shoulders with a cry of animalistic relief. The chain clinked loudly, but not loudly enough to overwhelm her rapid speech. I didn't catch a word of her babbling. Hiwatari knelt down and started speaking gently to her.

I tugged lightly on the chain binding Miyo to the wall, but there was no way I was going to be able to break it and there was no visible lock I could jimmy. Over the crying girl's head, I shook my head at Hiwatari and gave him questioning look. What would we do now?

Subtly, so as not to alarm Miyo, he reached behind her and grabbed the chain. Eyes narrowed, soft gold light traveled briefly from his hand over the links. When the glow faded, the chain just fell away from Miyo's neck, though the collar stayed in place. We could move her now.

It took every ounce of control I had to shut out Miyo's pain when I cradled her in my arms. "_Tatte kudasai_," I commanded soothingly, wrapping my jacket around her. I could feel her blood seeping into my shirt front.

With Hiwatari's help, Miyo stood on shaking legs.

Wait. What's that? Murderous. There's someone…

Oh shit.

"Hiwatari! Down! Get down!" I yelled, dragging Miyo down to the floor with me. Red light flew over our heads, crashing into the wall in a shower of sparks. Another ball of light followed, this one clipping Hiwatari in the shoulder as he turned towards its source. Grunting, Hiwatari rolled with the blow, coming up on his feet.

It was coming from behind us. "_Nokotte_," I ordered Miyo. She froze and pressed herself as hard as she could against the stone floor. In one fluid and practiced motion, I spun around and simultaneously drew the Berretta from my shoulder holster. The assault of red light continued, directed at Hiwatari. In the erratic lighting, I could make out the outline of a man in a doorway that hadn't been there before. A huge explosion sounded, and Hiwatari disappeared behind the concentrated blast. Without thinking, I squeezed off three rounds, aiming for Hikari's chest and head.

I heard the impact of the bullets, knew I'd hit my mark, but Hikari Shoji did not fall. Instead, he flicked his wrist in my direction, sparks crackling at his fingertips. The ground went out from under me and I flew into the nearest wall. Little spots dotted my vision as I slid to the floor.

A great flash of bright whiteness did not help matters. Nor did the gold lightning that followed it.

Krad as the cavalry.

This was going to be bloody.

* * *

(A.N.) Thanks for reading!. Please review and let me know what you think. It's always disheartening when you have twenty-seven people on the alert list and only five reivews, so EVERYONE, please review!!!! Love and Thanks!


	22. Chapter 21

Disclaimer: The Dark side is your destiny, young Skywalker.

Chapter 21

(A.N.) Sorry this chapter took so long! I have been suffering from writer's block lately. But don't worry. The block is gone and the next chapters have a plan! Yes. A plan. Isn't that exciting? . Also, I think I lied to everyone when I said that this story was ending in a couple chapters. When I went back and looked at all the plot issues I have to solve, I realized that it may take a bit longer than that. Hope no one minds! Everyone thank my awesome beta, Serpent of Slytherin, who was able to coach me out of my writer's block. And thanks to all of you that are reviewing. Much love. And thanks also to my readers but non-reviewers. Now, enjoy the chapter!

* * *

Light spread over the entire room, illuminating the macabre instruments and "artworks". Finally, I was allowed to see the human bones hanging on the walls and the jars of body parts on the shelves. I wish that I wasn't. Dark stains on the floor and the tables and the walls were thrown into stark relief. The softening blackness had been chased away by Krad's appearance. A worldly irony if I ever saw one. The fallen Lucifer finally showing why he was known as "Light Bringer".

Shouts of furious words echoed off the walls, words that I couldn't understand. Red and gold bolts of power struck out, creating one hell of a light show.

Dazed, I pushed my back against the stone wall and tried to gather back my wits and senses. Being thrown into a block of solid rock hurts like a son of a bitch. My arms shook slightly with the effort. My head was pounding. Most likely a concussion. Wonderful. By some miracle, my gun was still in my hand. With vague interest, I noticed that my knuckles were stark white against the dull black of the Berretta. Little dots of various colors flickered across my vision as I heaved myself to my feet. It was a wonder that I wasn't feeling nauseous or anything like that. "Jesus Christ," I muttered under my breath, straightening my bruised back. It wasn't a pleasant feeling.

A shot of red darted by dangerously close to my face. Things were heating up between Krad and Hikari. Rage filled the room, almost overriding the agony from the victims. Almost.

I leveled my gun at the Hikari's back as he assaulted Krad with his blood colored magic. My hands were still vibrating and the scene sort of swam around before finally settling into one place. I shot, aiming for the biggest target: Hikari's back. Dead center. It startled him long enough for Krad to blast him, throwing the Hikari through the air. At me and Miyo. I dove forward, rolling out of the way, shoving Miyo from her original place on the floor. We both slid with the force of it, but we didn't slide far enough.

Not nearly far enough.

Hikari landed not a foot away from Miyo and wasted no time in taking advantage of the fact. He seized her ankle like a viper, stone hand closing like a bear trap. Miyo screamed wordlessly, kicking as viciously as she could, but the Hikari's grip was stronger than Miyo could ever hope to be. Everything seemed to happen in slow motion.

I reached out for her hand.

She reached back.

Our fingertips brushed.

And then she was yanked away from me, Hikari dragging her to him and wrapping his arm around her neck. Miyo's terrified shriek was cut off by the action, her windpipe closing under the pressure of the offending arm, a gurgle escaping from between her lips. She clawed at his arms with her broken fingernails, a sharp and high-pitched squeal sounding from deep within her chest.

"Let her go, Hikari!" I ordered, gun aimed at his head. Miyo was in the way, damn it! The bastard was using her as a shield. From the corner of my eye, I saw Krad smirk at Hikari's back. A subtle glow grew from his skin and clothes, the gold menacing in its intent. He raised his hand, flaring his wings out to the sides. I knew that stance. He'd used it every time he'd done something to me. I opened my mouth to tell him to lay off while the murderer had a hostage, but Krad released his power before any sound made it passed my lips.

At the same moment, Hikari turned towards Krad, remembering, I suppose, that he was probably more of a threat than I was. Luck kept Miyo from being blasted, but that same luck meant that the attack didn't even faze her captor as Krad's power barely burned his shoulder.

Lips contorted in a snarl, Krad gathered light in his hands again.

This time, I got the words out of my mouth. "Stop, you idiot! He has a hostage!"

Krad's light grew brighter.

"No!" I shouted, running at him. Moron! Sadist! Selfish bastard!

I threw my weight into him hard enough to displace him a little, skewing his aim. The ball of energy flew wild, crashing into the stone of the walls. Debris shot everywhere on impact, shattering pots of dried powders. A thick cloud of dust rose, obscuring Hikari and Miyo from my sight. Coughing, I yelled at Krad, "The point of all this is to save the victim, you son of a bitch! It's called having a conscience! Try it sometime!" I didn't even wait for his arrogant retort, just plowed into the cloud of powders. I felt the Hikari moving quickly through the tunnel that led to the cliff side. His emotions were tangled up and twisted, but strong. Easy to follow.

The dust and the darkness blinded me, but I didn't stop. It was reckless, to say the least. But Miyo's life was more important. Her fear resonated with me so strongly, just as the pain of the dead did. My feet pounded against the rock floor while my heart pounded in my chest. Faintly, I could sense that Krad was following me. He was pissed.

Ignoring all the training I'd ever been put through, I raced into the skin room, tripping over the disturbed and disturbing rugs. There was a brief moment of clear understanding when I saw Miyo lying on the floor clutching her throat.

Then an arm snatched me around the waist in an iron grip. Harsh stone, cold as the grave, bit into my skin as my shirt rode up and the stale scent of coppery blood assaulted my nose. My backup gun jabbed into my back where I couldn't reach it, useless.

**Blood coats my hands and arms, flowing from the peasant law keeper's torn chest. The inferior being is in the middle of its last death throws. Watching thoughtfully, I lick the warm liquid from my fingers.**

**It's a pleasing sight to behold.**

**Deep black of death. Bright white of bone. Shining red of blood. All of it makes for a pretty tableau. **

**Perfect. Death is perfect.**

**I can make perfection, Kouriko, my love. Watch me.**

"NO!" Screaming, I jammed my elbow back instinctively. It cracked against rock. Literally. Pain shot up my arm, ringing in the bones. My gun fell from my other hand as I writhed in pain. "FU—!" Hikari's second arm cut off my agony filled shriek, strapping across my neck, and turned it into a mangled grunt. Raising my good arm, I tried to find a pressure point in Hikari's hand. If he'd been made of flesh, I could have forced him to release me. But he wasn't. He was stone, and stone didn't have pressure points. His arm was abrasive and whole, without a weakness that I could exploit.

But he was exploiting my weakness, even if he didn't know he was doing it.

Furious emotions pounded at my shields, striking again and again with their twisted power. Cold fear and desperation, coupled with the all too familiar heat of anger and desire, surrounded me and I had not place to direct it. I could only shut it out of my inner walls, but it never faded, never flickered. It was unrelenting

And it was starting to hurt.

From her place on the floor, Miyo whimpered in terror. I could sense her, could feel her throbbing body and psychological pain as if it were my own. Even as my own life became in danger, I was more concerned for her. She wasn't in any shape to fight off Hikari, less so than I. Frantically, I motioned at her with my good arm to get out of this madman's sight.

Clutching my jacket around her, Miyo obeyed, rolling under a table and curling into as tiny a ball as she could manage. Relief eased that small fear in my heart.

When Krad skidded into the room, I knew that I was not a leading contender in this struggle for survival. Krad most decidedly did not like me and he'd been willing to potentially kill a stranger. Why would he try to save someone he loathed?

Then again, he had not let me drown when he'd had the chance.

Looking straight into Krad's gold eyes, I couldn't even begin to discern if he was going to let me die or if he was going to save my sorry ass. The light topaz orbs were hot with rage and that was about it.

"_Onna ga koroshimasu_," Hikari growled. "_Chikaimasu._"

Cold breath spread across my scalp when he spoke. No scent wafted from his stone body. His stone fingers bit into my side and throat. I didn't understand the words, but the intent was clear from his actions and from the desperate rage I felt in his soul. He was going to kill me.

Krad shone with faint light, taking a step forward. His wings flared, brushing up against the rock walls. With calculated menace, he raised both his glowing hands. As his fingers traced through the air, symbols were left behind. Hikari backed away from Krad as if the glyphs were the bane of his existence. From the primal fear he was experiencing, they probably were.

"_Anata wa nigemasen, kaibutsu_," Krad replied, continuing his way forward. The light flared brighter, dazzling my eyes.

Hikari moved swiftly away from Krad, keeping me in between him and the deadly looking light. Fingers squeezed my neck hard, forcing a strangled gasp from my mouth.

Fucking son of a bitch!

For a bare instant, I thought I saw Krad hesitate, but I doubted it. He didn't give a damn about me. Unfortunately. The almost non-existent amount of oxygen I was getting was obviously damaging my brain. It seems to happen a lot.

My nails scrabbled against Hikari's arm, fighting for some way to hurt him. My movements were becoming sluggish, my lungs protesting harshly that they needed to breathe _now_. The cold sweat of terror, the kind that you wake to after a nightmare, soaked my forehead. I could feel blood dripping from a wound presumably made by Hikari's stone fingernails on my neck. Hikari's emotions still hammered at my defenses, threatening to break through. It was taking all I was to hold my barriers in place.

I wasn't paying attention when Krad unleashed his light. White and gold twined around each other, blotting out all other colors and shades, leaving my eyes to the futile task of adjusting to the sudden brightness. With a cry of dismay, or maybe anger, Hikari darted for the tunnel leading to the outside, dodging the blow. Another burst of power followed, far more accurately.

Crashing into the tunnel wall, I could barely move. I was stuck between the wall and Hikari's rock body, unable to move. Blood trickled down my face, obscuring my vision. Had I cut my head?

My captor was moving again in moments, seeming to have been unaffected by the impact. He did, at least, release my neck in favor of using the hand to add momentum to his sprint. Loud, sharp footfalls sounded in the dark. Stone on stone was not a pleasing sound at all. The softer echo of Krad's steps shadowed Hikari's, an ominous sound of a predator. I wasn't at all sure that Krad was any saner than Hikari Shoji was; all I had was my faith in Hiwatari's tenuous control over his other half. At this point, that was enough to keep me from feeling too despaired.

Light continued to whiz passed my head. With a surprising (and unsettling) agility, Hikari avoided the attacks one after another. It was ridiculous. Was Krad _drunk_? Was that why he couldn't aim worth a damn? I could do better, and with blood in my eyes at that! "Krad, you idiot!" I screamed over Hikari's shoulder, "You're supposed to hit him!"

A ball of white fire missed the side of my head by millimeters. I yelped in surprise, throwing my head back instinctively and collided with Hikari's stone body. Pain lanced through my skull. Dazed, I let my head loll about for a few seconds. Little spots were dancing in my vision again. Jesus, hadn't I been abused enough?

It wouldn't surprise me if Krad had done that on purpose.

Through my concussed haze, I noticed that there was a minute change in light. The shadows ahead didn't look as deep and I could hear loud waves over the sharp sound of footsteps. Distantly, I recalled that there was no other way out of this tunnel other than the opening in the cliff face. The same opening that led to no path to the top of the cliff, just opening into the air, hundreds of feet above the ocean. It also occurred to me that, despite the winged condition of both Krad and Dark, there was no reason to think that Hikari had any such advantage. If he continued forward, he would either remember that he can't fly and pull back, cornered, or he will just plow into the air and fall, taking me with him.

With renewed panic, I pulled at the arm around my abdomen, trying in vain to free myself. It wasn't working. At all.

For one brief moment, I found my eyes drawn to a magnificently red sunset, and then I was falling. The maniac had jumped! He chuckled quietly in my ear, seeming pleased with his suicidal choice. With the air whistling past my ears, I didn't hear myself scream, but knew that I did. Just one of those short, surprised sounds, nothing long or drawn out. I was too terrified to make too much noise. A jolt of force alerted me that something had slammed into Hikari's body, actually hurting him if I was interpreting his surprised grunt correctly. Finally, the arm around my waist loosened.

Gravity pulled me from Hikari's grip and I fell alone through the salty wind.

* * *

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­The artist was not pleased. No. He was furious. "Not pleased" was too weak a description for the all consuming heat that seared his very soul.

That bastard angel had ruined everything! Deceiver! Tainted! Cursed! Nothing but a pretty package for a cursed and blackened soul. He wasn't worthy of sharing the body of his wife, wasn't worthy of coming into the Hikari's workplace.

And that woman! Bitch! Whore! He would kill her yet. The witch had led the cursed one to his workshop. She was to be blamed as well.

Punish her. Yes, yes, he would punish her. She wasn't a canvas, she wasn't worthy of the honor. But he would take her all the same when the time came. Pain was she would experience. She would beg when he was done with her.

Her pain. Revenge. It would make things right. He knew how to hurt. That's what his larger knives and hammers were for.

Red reflections of the sun painted the world in blood. Just as he would paint the world in crimson. The crimson of that whore's blood.

His newest swan was lost to him. He would have to procure another one. Prepare her to be a canvas. Though he doubted he would be able to find one as perfect as the one he had been forced to leave behind.

No. He would need two. One to replace and one to keep him on schedule.

Yes. Yes. That's it. Two. A memory of two girls slipped into his mind, ones he had seen at the Museum. One of them was perfect. The other… Well. He could always dye her hair, he supposed.

Blue ocean beneath him. Angry white waves. Crimson sky above him. A blood red sun in the distance. All inspiring him for his newest swans.

He did not heed his fall. Never thought about the unforgiving embrace of the sea.

Perhaps he should have.

* * *

I heard more than saw Hikari Shoji hit the water. Knowing I was only seconds behind him, I shut my eyes and prayed that it wouldn't hurt too bad. I was not keen on drowning. Again.

But instead of landing in the cold water I was expecting, I was snatched from the air by a pair of very warm arms. Cautiously, I opened my eyes one millimeter at a time. In all honesty, I was anticipating Dark and his womanizing/infuriating grin.

Instead, I found myself caught in molten gold eyes and I wondered, briefly, if either Krad or Hiwatari knew how hypnotic their eyes were. Was it a Hikari thing? I doubted it. Nothing I had noticed about Shoji (the sick fucker), in reality or in a vision, was as seductive as Hiwatari and Krad managed to be. And since Krad had almost killed me on…What was it now? Ah, four times. He had almost killed me four times.

And this was the second time he'd saved me.

Couldn't he at least be consistent?

He banked in the air, curving his wings up and then down in one powerful motion. Not once did he release my eyes. Anger and frustration rolled off him, violent as the water below us. It didn't surprise me. Was there anytime when this man wasn't pissed about something?

I was betting not.

There was a subtler mix of emotions beneath the anger, but I was too tired to pursue it. Now that the adrenaline rush was wearing away, my body was coming to a grinding stop. My arms started to shake and my body felt cold. I felt numb. I couldn't even feel the cut on my forehead that I knew was still bleeding.

Unfortunately, there is no rest for the weary, or the bleeding in this case.

Still captivated by Krad's eyes, I said, "We have to go back for Miyo. We can't leave here there." I had to pitch my voice above the wind so that Krad could hear me.

Silently, he glanced contemptuously over his shoulder at the opening in the cliff side. He did not make a single move to turn around, though I saw a muscle in his jaw twitch. With the twitch came a rush of feelings that I knew did not belong to Krad. Hiwatari was, I think, telling Krad to do something. What, I wasn't sure. Hopefully, he was urging his other half to fly back to the cave and grab our vic.

"Hey!" Both my head and Krad's swiveled to look at Dark. "What happened in there? I thought it was supposed to be a clean in and out. Can't you do anything without getting hurt?"

"We'll talk about it later," I called to the thief, ignoring his joking barb. "Do you know what happened topside?" Hikari had been on one hell of a murderous rampage. I knew that the guards at the Art Museum were dead. I didn't know if that blood lust had reached the officers I'd left on the top of the cliff.

"No idea. I wasn't paying attention, just waiting around for you and the Commander. I figured you were going to need an extra pair of hands to get the girl back up the cliff. Not to mention I doubted you were going to make it back up without having a panic attack." A small grin accompanied the last statement.

I responded with what I hoped was a ball withering glare. "Dark. Don't talk anymore. You make my head hurt. Just pop back into that nightmare and get Miyo. She's hiding under a table in the first room. Don't disturb anything."

Waving one hand dismissively, Dark swooped into the cave opening and disappeared.

Once Dark was gone, I looked back up at Krad. He was back to glaring at me in that indescribable way of his. "I guess I should be thanking you," I mumbled, lowering my gaze. I don't like being stared at. Makes me feel like a freak in a carnival show.

"Don't misunderstand, girl," Krad replied indifferently, "I am not doing this for your benefit."

I took that to mean that Hiwatari did not want me to drown. How comforting.

"Thanks all the same," I said dryly, focusing my gaze on his shirt. Anything to keep my wandering eyes off the very, very far away ocean. "Er… how high up are we, by the way?"

"About three hundred feet, at the lowest." There was a very sadistic edge to his voice.

A small whimper made it past my tightly pressed lips. I wanted to mention that I hated him right now, but I couldn't open my mouth. If I forced myself to make sound, I knew that I would babble about falling again. Not a good thing. Neither was the dizzy feeling that I got when I looked down.

Most definitely a bad thing.

"Are we above the cliff?" I asked, still pretending to be extremely interested in his white shirt.

"Yes. If you are feeling ill, I would not advise trying to see for yourself. Suffice to say that it is not a welcoming sight." There was a dark undercurrent to his words and his anger flared again, washing me in fury.

Surprise hit me. Krad was angry that these officers had died. I wasn't sure of why, but I knew that much. I would have expected it from Hiwatari; just I would expect the grief that most humans feel for the death of someone they know. Krad though… Krad was… Krad. He wasn't, technically, supposed to have a heart. Or so Hiwatari told me. When he'd told me that, I'd been inclined to agree with him, but now…

Now I wasn't so sure.

When Krad landed, he lowered me to my feet and would not let me see around his body. "I would rather you not faint. I have no patience for it," he told me by way of explanation.

Dark landed next to us seconds later, looking haunted. In his arms, Miyo was curled as tightly as she could be, bird-like limbs sticking out from my jacket like twigs. Her eyes were closed and not an eyelash fluttered as Dark carried her over to me.

"She passed out when she caught sight of me," Dark explained. "You know, I'm used to woman fainting in my presence" a faint smile "but not out of fright. I must be loosing my touch."

"Didn't I tell you not to talk?" I asked, tired and exasperated. Did he ever stop?

"You did. But my voice is part of my charm. You would miss it too much. I'm sparing you the torture of a world without it." He smiled broadly, and then winced sharply. "Yeah, yeah…" he muttered under his breath. "Time for me to get the hell out of here, apparently. Dai's throwing a fit. Something about how hitting on law enforcement is unethical."

Thank God for Daisuke. Dark didn't seem to listen to anyone else.

Gently, Dark laid Miyo on the ground near my feet and then took off, vanishing as he flew east.

Kneeling down next to the unconscious girl, I informed Krad without turning my head, "I'm calling the base we set up. If you don't want to have to come up with some creative excuses, you'd better let Hiwatari have control now." Gold light washed over me from behind while I tried to slide an arm under Miyo's shoulders. When my arms throbbed horribly with pain, I switched arms. My throbbing arm was functional enough to grab a blood spattered radio off the ground. I tried to ignore the lifeless hand lying not two feet from it.

Hiwatari knelt next to me, blue eyes weary. I radioed in for help, asking for both ambulances and the morgue buses. A lot of morgue buses. I leaned against Hiwatari's shoulder without thinking, unsure that I was going to be upright for much longer. His arm wrapped around my shoulders to steady me as I wobbled when I shifted Miyo into my lap.

And so Miyo, Hiwatari, and I waited, washed in blood red light, for assistance to arrive.

It should have been over. I should have felt relieved.

I didn't.

I couldn't shake the feeling that nothing was over yet.

Could stone ever die?

* * *

(A.N.) Hate it? Love it? Let me know! Cyber cookies await those that click the blue button!


	23. Chapter 22

Disclaimer: Help me, Obiwan Kenobi, you are my only hope.

Chapter 22

(A.N.) I am sooooo sorry that this update took so long. I was busy with evil tests like the SAT I and II's, and AP tests! And my finals! Not to mention that I needed to find my muse again. I beg forgiveness! On another note, thank all you reviewers out there, and all you readers. I'm glad you all are liking how the story's progressing. And I would like to put out an ad: I NEED A NEW BETA READER. I ask that anyone who applies be good with grammar and that they have the patience of a saint! Okay. At least enough patience to let me bounce ideas off them if I need to. First come first serve! Thank you, and on with the story!

* * *

The room was dark where the Stranger sat, his fingers pressed against his lips thoughtfully. He hadn't anticipated that Hikari Shoji would be so uncontrollable. Usually, trapped souls tended to be very complacent after being bound for so long. At least, that's what his research had told him. It was very troublesome that Shoji hadn't followed such criteria.

There was not regret in him for the innocent women and little boy that the murderer had slaughtered; there was no remorse in him for being the one responsible for releasing the madman from his sleep. There was only a feeling of irritation that the problem of Niwa Daisuke and Dark Mousey had not been resolved as easily as he'd hoped it would be.

Sighing, the Stranger leaned back in his chair and thought for a moment, finally concluding that the situation couldn't be helped. "_Shikata ga nai_," he murmured, rummaging through one of his desk drawers, finally drawing out a ceremonial wand and a small piece of Shoji's stone body. The piece was barely big enough to be called a chip and had been scraped from the base of the statue before he'd released the Hikari.

"_Mada Niwa Daisuke wa ikiru_," he said to himself quietly, a dark and murderous undertone to his smooth voice. He did not want to have to exert himself in the manner he was about to, but Niwa Daisuke simply could not continue to live.

That was really all he cared about. Nothing else mattered in the end.

_Beep. Beep._

They want me to smash it. There is no other reason why the damn machine is in here, its little wires pasted to my chest. And the red marks from the last time were just starting to fade, too.

Against my wishes, I was back in the hospital, hooked up to the infuriating heart monitor and dressed in the backless paper gown. At least I was wearing underwear and my gloves this time. And I had a T.V. Listening intently to the news broadcast (and reading the subtitles at random intervals); I typed up my report and statement on the laptop I was borrowing from Hiwatari. After a few minutes, my eyelids started to droop slightly and I gave up typing, setting the computer aside. Damn pain killers. They keep making me drowsy.

_Beep. Beep._

The beeping continued on and on while I drifted, half-asleep, through my own thoughts. Once in a while, a nurse would stop in to check my bandages and IV, would ask me how I was feeling (to which I would reply as dryly as I could, "Just peachy."), and then would leave. The majority of my time was spent alone with the laptop and trying to finish putting together a coherent final report. If I concentrated hard enough, the dead didn't haunt my mind too badly. Some of the time anyway.

Thirty seven officers were killed in the line of duty by the Hikari. Thirty seven. I saw them all when I closed my eyes.

Miyo had been in a cationic state when the paramedics had loaded her into an ambulance. No one has bothered to keep my updated on her condition, though. From what I've been able to pry out of my doctor, Miyo is confined to the psyche ward until further notice. I've tried to see her a couple times, but her doctors keep turning me away and talking about tranquilizers. I have no idea if they meant the downers for me or Miyo. Is that a bad thing?

Probably.

I also couldn't shake the feeling that the Hikari was still alive. Stone doesn't die. Not like that. Not so quickly.

Hiwatari was released from this hell two days ago after an overnight "observation" stay. What does that _mean_ exactly? "Observation"? It's not like the doctors put him in a clear plastic bubble and stared at him all night.

I kept hoping that he would stop by and visit me or something, like Yamakawa did. But that's a different problem best suited for another day.

I pulled Hiwatari's laptop back onto my lap, replacing the tray full of _interesting_ "food" the hospital had been _kind_ enough to provide. At least, I think it was food. It moved a lot without any help from me. Creepy, if you dwelt on it too much, but I choked it down. Sort of.

_Beep. Beep._

"Yeah, yeah, I know," I muttered under my breath, fingers flying over the computer keys. "Thank you for letting me know that I'm alive. I would have never figured it out by myself." Annoying piece of junk.

"Do you always talk to yourself?" a voice asked from my door.

Without looking up from the screen, I greeted, "Hey, Hiwatari." I didn't bother to answer his question or to be surprised. Hell, I'd been half expecting him to show up.

Well, if you could call "hoping" expecting.

"Do you?" he pressed, taking a seat next to my bed. He was still moving a bit stiffly, probably from the wounds on his back.

"All the time," I answered after a few seconds, which I spent deleting a nonsensical paragraph about Jell-O (of all things…) from my report. I really need to tell the doctors to stop loading me up with medication. I don't even _like _Jell-O. "Believe it or not, it helps me concentrate sometimes. Besides, it's not as if I'm crazy or anything. People talk to themselves all the time. Completely normal."

"Keep telling yourself that."

Looking up from the computer, I glared indignantly. "Has anyone told you that antagonizing the ill and infirm is, at the very least, impolite?"

"If you're infirm, then I'm the King of England," Hiwatari deadpanned in response, face blank, though I could see a spark of amusement dancing in his eyes.

Adjusting my expression into one of suffering, I held my head with my hands and said, "It hurts so much, Your Majesty!" It didn't take very long for me to start laughing. I'd never been one for not laughing when you want to, unless it was at someone important who didn't want to be laughed at. I'd learned to shut up around those kinds of people. The hard way. Stupid mayor couldn't even take one, tiny joke about his baldness… Bastard.

Hiwatari was smiling slightly at my theatrics, which earned him some points in my book. At least he knew _how _to be amused, even if it didn't happen very often. He really should smile more…

"In all seriousness, though," I finally said, still smiling a bit, "what brings you here?"

"I wanted to talk to you about the vision you had at the museum," Hiwatari answered, all traces of amusement fading from his countenance. It was back to business.

Sighing, I shifted the laptop onto my bedside table and closed my eyes thoughtfully. "The one I got from touching the statue?"

"Yes, that one. Was there anyone else in it besides the killer?"

In my mind's eye, I replayed the whole scene and watched it with as much detachment as I could muster. "Yeah, there was another man. He was tallish and wore glasses, I think. He was also wearing a blue suit. Shoji only ever thought of him as "the Stranger", though, and there were not introductions between them, so I don't have a name for you. Hikari didn't put much stock into what the guy said to him, being too preoccupied with his own murder plans." When I was finished, I opened my eyes again and watched Hiwatari's speculative face.

"Is there anything besides what you told me that might identify him?" he asked, leaning towards me. "Anything at all?"

"He wants Daisuke dead," I told him softly. "He wants him dead very, very badly."

For just a moment, I felt a flash of anger from Hiwatari and I saw the flicker of recognition in his eyes. He knew who this "stranger" was. I'd bed he'd already suspected who it was before I'd said a damn word. All I'd done was confirm his theory.

"Who is it?" I inquired quietly. "Who could release such a monster on the world? Why would anyone do such a thing?" When Hiwatari didn't answer me right away, I went on, "I know you know who it is. I can tell, damn it."

The cold look he gave me, the total shut down of his face, told me that I'd said the wrong thing. Intently, he stared at me, never wavering. All I could feel from him was defensiveness. He didn't want to be so easily read. Or maybe he didn't anyone to_ know_ him well enough to read him so well.

Blankly, he stated, "I don't know what you're talking about, Simon-_san_."

I shouldn't have been surprised, or hurt for that matter. I'd only been here a week, after all. So why did my heart feel heavy? Why was it suddenly painful to draw breath?

Hoping to disguise my hurt, I turned away from Hiwatari's stoic gaze and found a nice splotch on the wall to stare at instead. "You don't have to lie to me, you know," I informed him in a flat voice, "Just tell me it's none of my business. At least there's a little bit of honesty in that." Anger crept into my voice. "And for the millionth goddamn time, call me Cassie." A quick glance back at his face told me that I hadn't fooled him in the slightest. I really ought to be used to this sort of thing by now.

A tense silence followed my words, only broken when my cell phone started ringing like crazy. Wincing at the abrupt noise, I reached over and grabbed the phone off the beside table. Without so much as a glance at the caller ID, I knew it was Renehan. "March of the Clowns" was his assigned ring tone. Flicking the phone open with more force than was necessary, I barked, "What the hell do you want, pervert?"

What can I say? I wasn't in the best of moods.

"_What crawled up your pretty little ass and died?" _Renehan asked indignantly.

"Whatever you say next had better be worth hearing your oily voice," I growled in response. I did not like the man. He was lucky that he did his job right, or I would have found a way to _accidentally_ shoot him ages ago. "And the first innuendo out of your mouth will get a harassment charge slapped on you so fast, you won't even see it coming."

"_Jesus, woman, Corvin just wanted me to call and find out when you were getting discharged. Don't take your PMS out on me by griping. The only time I want to here you screaming is if you're—."_

My face flushed. "I am going to castrate you, you son of a—!"

The phone disappeared from my hand.

Actually, it was yanked out of my hand.

"I am speaking with Agent John Renehan, correct?" Hiwatari asked coolly, standing and walking out.

Completely confused, I watched dumbly as the door shut soundly behind him, leaving me to finish my insult to an empty room. "Bitch."

_Beep. Beep._

"I know," I said conversationally to the heart monitor, not really caring how ludicrous the action was, "I'm confused, too. I thought we were fighting. We were fighting, right?"

_Beep. Beep._

"I thought so." Okay. Now, I'm creeping myself out. Talking to machines is not a good thing. Maybe I should give Angel a call… Oh, wait. Hiwatari has my cell phone. And is talking to Renehan.

This was not going to end well.

Seconds later, Hiwatari came back, saying politely into the phone, "I'm glad that we have come to an understanding, Agent Renehan. I'm putting Agent Simon back on now." Face as expressionless as always, he offered me the phone as he sat back down in his chair.

Cautiously, I extracted the phone from his long fingers and held it up to my ear. "Hello?"

"_Don't. Ever. Put that guy on the phone with me again."_

Was it just me, or was Renehan's voice shaking?

"Uh, okay," I replied, giving Hiwatari a sideways glance and raising an eyebrow.

"_Good. Er… I'm, uh, sorry about being an ass. Yeah. Make sure to tell that guy that I apologized, girlie." _He paused uncomfortably for a second, then continued, "_And I have to go now. Get better and all that shit." _A dial tone blared in my ear as he hung up.

His voice had _definitely_ been shaking.

"Renehan said to tell you that he apologized. He never apologizes. It's not in his genes, which means that you had something to do with it. So, is there something that you want to tell me?" I prompted Hiwatari warily, flipping the cell closed.

"I—."

Whatever he'd been planning to say was cut off as an intern crashed into the room, yelling in Japanese. I was savvy enough to catch the command for us to come with him, and for us to hurry. I also heard Miyo's name in the rush of words and that was all I really needed to understand.

Hiwatari and I sprinted from the room after the man, and I hoped that Miyo hadn't done something stupid.

* * *

It had taken some work to cut deep enough. Plastic just wasn't sharp enough to do it right with one slice. It hurt more than she anticipated, but Miyo didn't let herself get deterred by such a trivial thing. 

After all, she was determined to die.

_I'm coming Kiyoshi. _

Blood flowed sluggishly at first, but soon was pouring from her self-inflicted wounds.

Distantly, she heard people pounding on her door, but didn't bother to worry about them saving her. She'd jammed the door with a chair, a note taped to the seat for her parents and friends.

As her heart slowed, her eyes felt heavy and she smiled slightly. It really was just like going to sleep once you got passed the cutting part.

She laid herself down on her hospital bed, her wrists a bloody and mutilated mess, and didn't regret her broken choice.

* * *

By the time Hiwatari and I had arrived behind the intern, the other doctors and nurses had managed to get into the room. I knew that they had forced their way in since the door was essentially hanging off its hinges. 

She had done something stupid.

One doctor was using a crash cart on Miyo to restart her heart, while numerous others were injecting drugs and more blood into her body. They had already intubated her. In between electric shocks, an intern was performing CPR compressions while another squeezed a little blue bag to pump air into Miyo's unresponsive lungs.

But no matter what they did, the continuous sound of a flat line from Miyo's heart monitor rang through the room as a morbid reminder of the doctors' failure.

"No," I whispered, "no, this is not happening." I stripped off my gloves and threw them at Hiwatari and dove into the frantic crowd around Miyo, remember Fiona's far away words about what evolving as an empath meant.

Forcefully, I shoved a nurse out of the way and, without knowing what the hell I was doing, grabbed Miyo's wrist, my hand sliding in the blood.

**It hurts too much…**

**My hand is shaking a little as I saw at my own flesh. A metal knife would have been so much better, but I will do this. Metal or no metal. **

Live! I willed that thought, screaming in pain as my wrists were ripped open. Don't be in pain!

**I'm coming Kiyoshi…**

"You will stay here!" I yelled at the girl. "Damn it, we did not pull you out of that hellhole for you to kill yourself!"

"Separate them!" a doctor ordered. I don't know which one.

"No!" I retaliated. "If she won't live because it hurts so damn much, then I'll hurt for her!"

Flinging my walls wide open, I invited Miyo's pain in, giving it a new home. Loneliness ate at me, chased by the absolute desire to die. I was drowning in Miyo's suicide. I could sense that my own heartbeat was slowing, even though adrenaline coursed through my veins. My entire body began to shake violently. Screwing my eyes shut, I screamed again as I was buried under six feet of agony. Under my fingers, I felt Miyo's flesh closing and her lungs beginning to respond to the manual respiration being done by the doctors. But her heart refused to beat.

"Clear!" a voice shouted.

Hands seized my shoulder and hauled me away from Miyo's body, causing my eyes to snap open in surprise. I tried to hold on, but blood made her skin hard to grip and the loss of motor control in my hands stole my strength. Miyo must have cut too deep, severing the tendons.

I watched as the paddles were pressed against Miyo's exposed chest, and winced when her body jumped with the ensuing jolt. And when the monitor began to beep again with Miyo's pulse, I didn't find it irritating. I could only feel releived.

However, I only had a minute to observe the miracle before I was spun around and pinned by a very pissed off sapphire glare. Muttering darkly under his breath, Hiwatari held my wrists palm up to inspect them. When I started to protest the contact, he hissed something that assumed translated as "Shut up", and I fell silent. I wasn't getting anything off him anyway. In fact, I felt a tad numb.

Looking on in interested detachment as the slashes across both my wrists began healing, I didn't really pay too much attention to the bewildered doctors behind me. I think they were wondering where the wounds on Miyo's wrists had gone.

I wasn't about to tell them. Talk about awkward.

While I wasn't paying attention, Hiwatari pulled on my wrists and wrapped an arm around me. "_Baka,_" he growled. "_Ahou._"

Scratch what I thought before. _This _was awkward. Not in an uncomfortable way, though. Truthfully, I was quite content for someone who doesn't particularly like being touched. It was more like the are-we-going-to-pretend-this-didn't-happen-but-have-it-always-on-our-minds brand of awkward.

"I'm not an idiot. Or a fool," I retorted a bit weakly into his shoulder. My body had lost blood, despite the wounds having closed, and I was feeling the effects. I felt dizzy and my limbs felt like they were made of lead. I couldn't even raise up my arms to hug Hiwatari back, so I just let my body lean into his and rested my pounding head on his shoulder. I needed Advil. Now.

"You most certainly are," he told me, pulling back and glaring at me again. His coolly indifferent mask was back in place when he handed me my gloves, though it slipped again into concern when it was clear how much trouble I was having with putting the God forsaken things on. His eyes slid past me and he opened his mouth, presumably to call a doctor, but I shifted slightly so that I blocked his view and shook my head.

"No doctors," I pleaded quietly. "I can't take another minute in this damn place. I'm fine," I added when he didn't seem to be listening to me.

We stared at each other for a while, something that was becoming almost second nature to me by now, and then he finally nodded.

In the time that it took to get back to my room, I was feeling marginally better and could move much more easily. I was still tired and my head was still pounding, but that wasn't really news.

I dressed, strapping on my holsters and making sure that both my Berretta and my Glock were in working order and had their safeties flipped on. Then, I packed up the laptop, signed my discharge papers (with no problems this time around), and accepted a steadying hand from Hiwatari when I climbed into the back of Yamakawa's squad car.

Time to get back to work.

* * *

The water was cold, cold as the deepest well of despair the human soul could come up with. Darkness swirled around him, denying his eyes any chance of vision. 

That bitch. Little whore. She was supposed to drown with him. She was supposed to die.

He would make her pay. She had insulted Kouriko's name, interfering in his noble work as she had. Her and that cursed angel bastard. Both of them would bleed and scream until he was satisfied with their penance.

Blood would again run freely under his hands. He would not be denied. Never. Eternity was his.

He was an artist. He could create.

And destroy.

_Hikari Shoji…_ a dark voice called to him. The Stranger's voice. _Come…_

_No_, Hikari thought, _I am no one's slave. _There was blood to spill. Screams to render.

But he could not resist the call of magic and of his own stone flesh.

Step. Step. The sea gave way before him.

The hunt was far from finished.

* * *

I was working on finishing my report when we got the call. 

The office had been quiet, a sign of mourning for the fallen officers. Hiwatari and I had been organizing evidence into boxes before he'd ordered me to sit down before I fainted. Which I'd resented. I wasn't that tired. He was being protective in a jerk sort of way.

And the tension in the room was almost unbearable.

I'd been right. This was the are-we-going-to-pretend-this-didn't-happen-but-have-it-always-on-our-minds brand of awkward. Sometimes, I hate when I'm right.

When the phone rang, I didn't really pay any mind to it. But then I sensed the horror rolling off Hiwatari in waves once he answered the phone. My head snapped up, watching him tensely as he began speaking rapidly in a tense voice. The conversation lasted for five minutes.

As he hung up, I asked, "What's wrong?"

"He has the Harada twins," Hiwatari said tonelessly, grabbing his jacket.

We ran out of the room, both calling for Yamakawa.

There was no question of who Hiwatari was referring to when he said "He".

I knew stone couldn't die. I fucking knew it.

* * *

(A.N.) Please **REVIEW**! The standard reward of cookies awaits you beyond the purpley-blue button! 


	24. Chapter 23

Disclaimer: These are not the droids you're looking for.

Chapter 23

(A.N.) Hello again! Here's chapter 23 (as I'm sure you've all figured out...XD) A big thanks to the three of you who beta'd. It was weird. I ask for one, and end with three. :) So, thanks to **Asa Hoshi**, **Silver and White Angels**, and **Mora Black**. You all managed to correct completely different things. A crack shot team, in my opinion. But, anyway, enough of my rambling. On with the chapter!

* * *

The Harada residence was crawling with every available officer for miles. I could tell that we had cops from other towns by their uniforms, at least three different precincts if I was thinking correctly. Detectives and plainclothes officers were there, as well. Blockades had been set up around the perimeter to keep out the press, who had swarmed the scene like angry hornets. Deafeningly loud, shouts and sirens tore through the air and the forensics and coroner's teams were running anywhere and everywhere.

In short, it was a fucking mess.

Yamakawa, Hiwatari, and I fought our way through the mass of reporters, ignoring questions and camera flashes. By the time we reached the blockade, my ears were ringing and little spots clouded my vision.

Entering the mansion, Hiwatari veered off to talk to Inspector Saehara, motioning for me and Yamakawa to wait for him by the stairs. I surveyed what I could see of the house while the two conversed, noting the good quality of the furniture and decorations. A well to do family, I guess. There was a simple elegance to the place that screamed money.

Well, except for the smattering of blood near the door and the trail of crimson that led to a sheet covered body a few feet away. A single black, polished shoe stuck haphazardly out from the covering. A man's shoe. I stared hard at it, trying not to notice that it was bent at a very unnatural angle.

"The butler, Oshugi Yoshi, 62," Hiwatari said from behind me. "The killer must have come through the front door, and the butler tried to stop him. The coroner said that the man must have struggled fiercely, surprising for someone of the butler's age. There were defensive wounds on the man's forearms. His right leg, as you noticed, is broken, probably from falling. Cause of death was a single slice of the throat, just like the Chigusa boy."

I gazed at the body for a few more seconds after Hiwatari finished the summery before finally taking a step towards it. I should see what I could get off the dead man.

"Simon-_san_," Hiwatari halted me, "there is nothing you can learn from him. We essentially know what happened."

"But…" The protest died in my mouth. He was right, damn it.

"The Harada twins' rooms are upstairs." Touching my gloved arm slightly, he pulled my attention away from the shrouded body and I followed him up the stairs, Yamakawa following us silently. At the top, Hiwatari led the way over the balcony that overlooked the front hall and into the left wing of the second floor. Even before he stopped in front of the first door we came to on the right side of the hall, I knew it was the crime scene because of the heavy traffic traveling in and out. "Harada Risa's room," Hiwatari announced.

"He took them both from this room?" I asked for confirmation.

"_Hai_."

Hiwatari entered the room first, asking everyone inside to finish what they were doing and clear out. His request was met with well concealed indignation, but he was obeyed. Poor guys. Sometimes, being low on the chain of command really was a bitch.

Ten minutes later, I was standing in the middle of the light pink room with Hiwatari and Yamakawa, the door shut against distractions and prying eyes. Yamakawa was busying himself with setting up a video camera retrieved from one of the other officers while Hiwatari and I examined the disheveled room.

A lamps lay broken on the floor. A cracked mirror. A splintered chair and desk. Papers and pictures were strewn about the floor. A small blood stain, still wet, soaked into the carpet. What used to be a baseball bat, now a heap of wood slivers. The glass balcony doors were shattered and hanging off their hinges.

"So much damage," I murmured, carefully sifting through the wreckage. "They made him work for it." Glancing over at Hiwatari, I inquired, "If you had to guess, which twin do you think was injured?"

"Harada Riku." There was no hesitation before his answer. "She was the more aggressive one. In all probability, she attacked the killer to try and give her sister a chance to escape. The killer struck her down in response."

Nodding in understanding, I said, "Let's find out for sure. How's that camera coming, Yamakawa?"

"_Junbi shimasu, Tantei_," Yamakawa replied absently, playing with some knobs on the camera.

That was a bit beyond me and I glanced at Hiwatari for a translation. "Everything's ready to go," he told me wryly.

I tucked the phrase into my slowly growing compendium of Japanese language for later use. "Right." I began to strip off my gloves, shoving them into my bag once my hands were free. Then, I shrugged out of my bag and jacket, my gray T-shirt and guns visible. When Yamakawa gave me a thumbs up, I knelt down next to the bloodstain. Lights. Camera.

My fingers touched the damp red spot. "Action."

"**Jeez, Riku, just pick one already!" I groan, exasperated with her. When she asked me to help her choose something to wear for her three month anniversary with Daisuke, I'd been thrilled. Riku and I didn't usually see eye to eye about fashion a lot. But if I'd known she'd be so **_**picky…**_

"**You don't think it's too frilly, do you?" my twin asks worriedly, modeling the yellow sundress in the mirror, scrutinizing every inch. **

"**It has a little bit of lace and some ribbons, Riku, not a tutu. It's not **_**frilly**_**," I assure her, biting back the annoyance I was feeling. This was the fifteenth outfit she'd tried out. The other fourteen had been discarded as either too "girly" or not "girly" enough. **

"**Are you—?"**

**Shouts from the first floor cut her off. They lasted for maybe a couple seconds, then a loud thump followed. **

"**What was that?" I ask, feeling unease spread through me.**

"**I don't know," Riku answers, frowning. I know she's freaked out, too. I can tell. But she squares her shoulders and continues, "Stay here. I'll go check."**

**Biting my lip, I say, "I'll go with you." I didn't want to be alone. "But I have a bad feeling about this."**

"**You and your 'feelings'," my twin scoffs. "You've been spending too much time with those tarot cards, if you ask me."**

"**Shut up," I mumble. The cards are always right. I've seen proof. **

**Riku's hand is on the knob of the door, ready to turn, but she freezes at the last second. "Someone's coming down the hallway," she whispers. Backing up from the door, she grabs her softball bat from where she threw it, along with her other equipment, when she came in after school. "Hide."**

**She didn't have to tell me twice. I duck behind my desk so that anyone who comes into the room can't see me. I'd only be spotted if someone came all the way over to the closet and looked straight at me. "Come on, Riku!" I urge quietly. "You too." She crouches next to me, bat clenched between her fists. I cover her white-knuckled hands with my own shaking ones. "We'll be okay," I whisper. **

**The door explodes inward, banging against the wall, and I fight the urge to scream. A man stands in the doorway. At first, all I notice is that his skin is all wrong. It's gray and grainy looking, like the rocks of a cliff. Then I see the knife he's holding in his right hand and panic grips my heart. It has to be a half a foot long at least! I clutch at Riku, near hysterics. Oh gods…**

**Riku's voice trembles violently when she whispers, "You run when I tell you to. Do you understand? You run and get help."**

**I'm so afraid that I can't even answer. I can hardly breathe. **

**Undoubtedly searching for us, the man strides into my room. Heading straight for where we were hiding. He must have heard Riku talking. **

**He's almost right on top of us when Riku lunges at him. "Run, Risa!" she screams. She pulls the bat back and swings. **

**I'm running for the door when I hear the bat collide with the man and the sound of the bat breaking. My sister shrieks. **

**I can't leave her.**

**Turning, I grab a lamp and chuck it at the man who has seized Riku. With a wave of his hand, the man murmurs something and the lamp diverts from him, hitting the mirror. I hurl a music box next, but that too is sent flying away from the man, crashing through the balcony doors. Riku screams again, "Run, damn it! Run!"**

"**Let my sister go!" I shriek at the man, ignoring her command. I race back to help, snatching up a half of the broken bat and bringing it down on the man's shoulder.**

**Almost casually, the man slaps me across the face and I fly into the desk.**

**The last thing I hear is Riku screaming my name.**

When I opened my eyes to the present, I had to immediately close my left one. Blood was trickling down my face from a cut in my forehead, stinging like hell. My entire back and side was killing me from Risa's flight into her desk, and the entire left side of my face ached from when Hikari slapped her. "You guessed wrong. The blood is Risa's," I told Hiwatari, cutting through the deathly silent room. "Riku tried to distract Hikari long enough for Risa to escape, but Risa wouldn't leave her sister behind. She went back for her. Hikari sent Risa flying into the desk, and she must have fallen to the floor here." The blood flow on my face was already stopping and I wiped at it with my hand, succeeding only in smearing it all over the place. "Damn."

"Here," Hiwatari offered, holding out a handkerchief. His eyes blazed with barely suppressed concern, and the air was thick with tension because of that emotion. "_Daijoubu?" _he asked quietly, placing his other hand on my covered shoulder. The muffled contact let me know that there was something behind his concern.

Taking the cloth from his hand, my fingers brushed against his lightly and I had a brief moment of insight into those other feelings. Beyond his concern, there was a wall of white-hot rage and, even farther beyond that, there was a cold fury that I knew belonged to Krad. I chose not to comment. Note to self: ask why people getting kidnapped and killed makes Krad angry. From my experience with him, the white-winged man didn't really give a damn usually. Or maybe it was just that killing _me _was okay. Which I hoped wasn't true. I really hoped that wasn't true.

"Thanks," I said, keeping my thoughts to myself. While wiping the blood from my face, I felt the stiffness leaving my back and side, and I stood up. "I'll be fine in a minute," I added, answering his previous inquiry.

Wrapping his fingers around my upper arm, Hiwatari helped me to my feet. I've given up trying to maintain the no contact rule. It's too hard to worry about at a time like this. Besides, it's not like I didn't already know his secret and I hadn't gotten a vision off him since the time in the coroner's office. It seemed like years ago.

"What now?" I wondered out loud, letting Hiwatari pull me from the room. "Where could he have taken them? There isn't another workshop in the cliffs, is there?"

"Not to my knowledge," Hiwatari said, sounding weary. He released my arm and slid his glasses off his nose, rubbing his face tiredly with his other hand.

Yamakawa handed me my bag and jacket, taking advantage of my now free hands. I yanked my gloves back one and tied the jacket around my waist, then looped the bag across my chest. This done, I placed a comforting hand on Hiwatari's shoulder and squeezed lightly. "Is there anyone who would know? What about Kouriko's journal?"

"The journal doesn't mention another place. The only ones who might know where he might go are…" He trialed off, clearly considering the options. A hard glint appeared in his eyes and I felt a strong resolve. And a small trace of fear.

"Hiwatari?"

"I'll be back in a moment. You two wait down in the hall for me, it shouldn't take very long." Shrugging, he detached himself from my hand and walked down the hallway, taking the next flight of stairs up to the third floor.

"Where is he going?" Yamakawa asked, clearly perplexed.

"I was going to ask you that," I responded, frowning. What the hell was he doing? One minute he's trying to think of who would know where the Hikari went and then he…

No. That couldn't be… Shit.

"Yamakawa, head on back to the station and start compiling a list of possible locations where this bastard could be hiding." My voice was steady. Miracles happen. "I'll stay here with Hiwatari. Another officer can take us back."

"_Demo—."_

"Now, Officer."

He paused, thinking to argue I guess, but then nodded curtly and left.

I followed Hiwatari's path up.

* * *

The Stranger watched, a cup of _sake_ in hand, as Shoji prepared the two girls. A pity, he supposed. The girls were very pretty. They wouldn't be for very much longer. 

He didn't even flinch when the artist unrolled his back-up tool kit. Knives and paint brushes and other things were all secured in canvas pockets, neatly arranged. _At least the madman is organized_, the Stranger thought. He didn't really have a taste for what Shoji did with his victims, but he appreciated a thorough and organized man. Those types tended to do their jobs well. All the Stranger had needed to do was make the murderer obey commands, instead of letting him perform off a leash. Even the most organized man needed direction sometimes.

"_Guzu guzu shinai de_," he ordered from his vigil point on the overhanging balcony. It was only a reminder of his previous order, really. He couldn't let the man follow his usual timetable. Those girls had to be dead in three days at the most. Shoji would just have to condense his usual ministrations into that timeframe.

As if watching nothing more than a TV show, the Stranger coldly surveyed the circular stone room and the events happening within it. The silver flash of Shoji's knife was rather hypnotic.

The long haired girl's scream broke the spell of the blade and the Stranger shook his head slightly, checking his watch. Curiosity pulled his eyes away to watch Hikari Shoji, a master in the art of death and torture, at work. The knife flashed again.

The Stranger decided he could stay a while more.

* * *

Shocked, I stood in the doorway of the bathroom and stared. 

Hiwatari was hunched over the sink, hands braced on the marble top, and he was talking to Krad. Who was lounging in the mirror.

In. The. Mirror. Where Hiwatari's reflection was supposed to be!

The conversation was too fast for me to follow, not to mention that I doubt my grasp of the language was proficient enough to understand. But from the insolent grin Krad was sporting and Hiwatari sending out waves of impatience, I assumed the exchange was going nowhere.

The two of them were so involved in their words that neither noticed me standing in the doorway. I believe that the phrase "wrapped up in yourself" would apply to circumstances like this.

"This is giving a whole new definition to split personality disorder," I said out loud, leaning as casually as I could on the doorframe. I see this everyday. Nothing unusual is happening. I am unfazed and calm.

Yeah. Right.

Both Hiwatari and Krad jumped, which was sort of amusing to see. Both glared at me, as well, reminding me of disgruntled cats. I wonder what would happen if I dumped water all over them?

Straight faced, I pointed out, "You two have remarkably similar behavioral tendencies. You should fix that."

"I thought I told you to wait downstairs," Hiwatari snapped.

"I thought _I _told _you_ to stop lying to me."

"I didn't lie."

"Omission counts, smartass."

"Children," Krad grumbled from the mirror, the annoyance clear in his tone.

"Shut up, Krad!" Hiwatari and I snarled in unison.

"I wasn't about to say anything in front of Yamakawa," Hiwatari continued as if his other half hadn't spoken.

"You could have said it in code."

"Code? Like what?"

"Oh, I don't know! Artichoke? Football? Gardenia? Does the exact word matter? We're supposed to be partners, damn it! You should have said _something_!" This was ridiculous. He was missing my whole point.

Krad spluttered. I don't think he thought of himself as a gardenia. "Enough!" he thundered, obviously furious.

This time, Hiwatari and I didn't snap at him. Hiwatari looked to be in too much pain to say anything, and I was taken aback by the sheer force of will I suddenly felt rolling from Krad's being.

Hissing, Krad commanded, "Both of you shut up!"

I didn't point out that neither of us was speaking anymore. It would only provoke him.

A minute passed by in silence, which Krad used to calm himself. The pain Hiwatari was experiencing also eased, and soon he was back to his cool and calm self.

"Krad," Hiwatari said, "I'll ask one more time. Are there any histories that would have a record of another workshop? Do you recall any?"

Sighing, Krad leaned back in the mirror and appeared deep in thought. "A great deal was lost in the Cultural Revolution, Satoshi-_sama_. Many of the Hikari histories were destroyed along with the artworks. What was left was either hidden or lost, as time went on. You know this. The only others who might possess anything would be the Niwa family. They may have _acquired_ it at some point, I suppose." There was an edge to his voice that clearly said that "acquired" meant "stolen".

"So…I guess we pay Daisuke a visit," I said out loud.

Krad growled.

"That may be difficult," Hiwatari told me at the same time. "The Niwa family, with the exception of Daisuke and his father, are not very inclined to hand over anything of the Hikari line to a Hikari descendent."

"You make it sound like they would have a choice. If they have the information we need, then they will give it to us. We have two girls in the hands of a fucking psychopath and we don't have time for this feud." Maybe they missed that part?

"I agree, Simon-_san_, but we cannot simply barge in and take it from them, if they have it at all. If we go in as police, then we would need a warrant to compel them."

"We won't need a warrant," I assured him. "Daisuke cares for Riku and is friends with Risa. Dark cares for both girls. That's what you told me. Do you really think that they won't give us the information if they have it?"

"You are underestimating the bad blood between the Niwa and Hikari families," Hiwatari warned tiredly. "Sometimes hate doesn't care who gets hurt." That last part seemed more directed at Krad than at me.

He was right. I'd seen it before. Spite and loathing, of any kind, made a person hard-hearted and blind to the suffering of their loved ones. "It's time it did." For the second time that day, I reached out and put a hand on Hiwatari's arm. "No more collateral damage. There's too much already."

We stared at each other for a few seconds in agreement and understanding. Our purpose was restored, back on track.

A disgusted snort drew us both back to Krad. "You are going to get yourselves killed."

"What do you care?" I shot back. He was an annoying bastard.

"I happen to care for Satoshi-_sama_, girl…"

A disbelieving glare from Hiwatari.

"…and I am not fond of needless death. It's wasteful. Inefficient. Ultimately, I find it inconvenient."

"Well aren't you just a sweetheart," I muttered sarcastically.

Krad tactfully ignored me with an arrogant toss of his head, shifting his attention to Hiwatari. "It would be safer for you to let me—."

"Absolutely not." Hiwatari grabbed my arm and began to back away from the mirror. "Yamakawa can drive us there."

"Uh, he can't actually." I explained about how I had sent him back to the station.

"It would also be much faster. And, my presence would probably encourage the truth from the Niwas," Krad added smoothly.

I, for one, did not like the sadistic glint in his gold eyes when he said that last part. Neither did Hiwatari. But what could he say? We both knew that Krad could take control against Hiwatari's will, if the bastard really wanted to.

"If you harm anyone…" Hiwatari left the threat open ended, but his sincerity was clear. His eyes flicked to me. "Wait out in the hall."

Without waiting for my yea or nay, he shoved me out and slammed the door shut. A couple minutes passed by agonizingly slow as I watched gold light streaming from the crack under the door play across the carpet. When the door opened, I took an instinctive step back and held my breath, wondering if perhaps my gun should have been in my hand.

Krad emerged from the bathroom, flexing his white wings a little.

He held out a hand. "Come."

Hesitantly, I took his hand and wished wholeheartedly that he didn't fly too far off the ground.

All I can say is that Dark better have information for us.

* * *

(A.N.) So that's it for now. The next chapter won't be completed until the end of the month, most likely. I'll be in Japan for two weeks, the 5th to the 20th, so I'll begin writing again once I get back to the U.S. Please REVIEW! 


	25. Chapter 24

Disclaimer: You are _exactly_ my brand of heroin. (I am switching to Twilight quotes.)

Touch

Chapter 24

(A.N.) I am still alive! I just sort of forgot about this story for a while. I'm so sorry for leaving you guys hanging. I didn't mean to!

* * *

"Don't ever do that again!" 

"What? Fly upside down? Like so?"

"I hate you! Do you hear me? I absolutely hate you!"

"I am gratified to know the feeling is mutual, girl."

"When we get back on the ground, I'm going to shoot you, asshole."

"I could simply drop you. I doubt you would be in any condition to use your pathetic weapon then."

"Fuck you, gardenia."

Instantly, Krad's arms loosened around my waist, letting me slip precariously into the air. I shrieked wordlessly in response and fisted both my hands in his shirt. Sheer terror giving me phenomenal strength, I pulled my body up until I could scream in his ear. "Fine. I don't hate you. I fucking loathe you!"

Which is when he let go of me completely, using his free hands to pry mine off him.

And I fell, screaming.

Mere feet from my impending pancake status, I was roughly snatched out of the air by Krad's arms and he continued flying along as if he hadn't dropped me. "I believe that I have made my point. Do you have need of any further reminders, girl?" he asked, managing to be disdainful and triumphant at the same time. Such talent.

I couldn't even answer him. My breath came unevenly and fast, sucking in copious amount of oxygen in panic, and my heart was thudding so quickly that I couldn't make out the individual beats anymore. My pulse was one big "thump".

"What did I ever do to you?" I wondered out loud once my ability to breathe normally came back. "I don't remember insulting you before your Hate Cassie Parade started. I only insult people who are jerks to me first. Usually. Is it the hair? Do you hate redheads? 'Cause I noticed that you happen to hate Niwa, too, and he has red hair. Which is weird, by the way. He's Japanese and he swore to me that red's his natural color. It's just unnatural. Like you. And Hiwatari. And Dark. And the killer. And that grossly misshapen fish right there." We were gliding over the ocean, almost skimming the surface of the water. The fish in question was flat and staring up at me with both eyes, which were embedded in its back. I think that qualifies as unnatural.

"You are babbling," Krad observed blandly.

"Yes. I am. I tend to do that when I have near death experiences."

"You are also annoying me. If you don't wish to swim your way to shore, I would suggest you hold your tongue."

I wanted to tell him that his threat was better than the current situation but I wisely bit my tongue to keep the not-so-nice response to myself. I'd had enough of the ocean to last me a lifetime. It kept trying to drown me. Not to mention that I was a bit tired still from the chaotic past few days.

Finally, the Niwa residence came into sight and Krad circled like a vulture before finally deciding to land on a balcony attached to the side of the quaint looking house. Sliding from the bastard's grip, I realized that my legs were shaking. It took me a couple minutes to make them move the way legs are supposed to: one foot in front of the other. I would have called it walking, but it was more like a wiggly sort of limping. I really do hate heights.

Krad trailing haughtily behind me, I knocked on the sliding glass door that led into the house. I could make out a bedroom too sporadically decorated to be an adult's, so it must have been Daisuke's. Unless he had brothers or sisters that I didn't know about.

I rapped my knuckles against the glass again, harder this time. My gloves were absorbing most of the sound though. I could see a lump shift on the loft bed, but it ignored me.

What the hell was Daisuke doing in bed? It was only around five o'clock, at the latest.

About to pound on the door a third time, I found that the action was no longer necessary since Krad had simply passed a glowing hand over the handle, unlocking it. "Neat trick," I commented. "Illegal, but neat." I was itching to handcuff him.

"Human laws don't concern me," the white winged man answered, shoving the door aside and stepping into the room beyond.

I sighed softly. Arrogant son of a whore. I wonder how Hiwatari, being a police commander, felt about Krad's disregard for laws.

Pushing those musings away for another time, I followed Krad inside and slid the door closed without a sound.

The lump on the bed didn't move.

I tested the emotions in the room curiously and found them to be calm, unmistakably Daisuke with some smattering of Dark, and clean of negativity. Peace permeated the air and I felt my body instantly relax in response. This was probably the most tranquil place I've been since being put on this case. I shook myself a little, reminding myself that I needed to rouse Daisuke, and went over to the loft's ladder.

A ladder. Great. At least it was only six feet off the ground. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad.

Determined not to make a fool of myself, I grabbed the rung at my eye level and started climbing. My legs still felt like jelly, but I was able to force them upwards. The climb was mercifully so short that I didn't have a chance to look down before I got to the top. The only sight for my eyes was a comforter covered hump.

I poked it. "Niwa_-kun_? Wake up." When the bulge made no answer, I tried, "_Okite kudasai?_" I pushed at Daisuke a little harder, feeling a frown tug at my lips. Five minutes passed by, interspersed with cutting off Krad's increasingly violent suggestions for waking the red-head, as I tried to coax Daisuke out of dreamland. Finally, I gave into my irritation and shouted where I assumed his ear to be, "_Niwa Daisuke, ima okinasai!_"

Bolting upright swiftly, Daisuke knocked me aside in panicked disorientation. I tumbled down the ladder, landing on my butt and uttering an undignified squeak. Krad's mocking laughter filled the room.

So much for not making a fool of myself.

"_Nani wa_?" a muffled voice called from above me. I could barely hear the words, but I assumed that the croak originated from Daisuke. I ascribed the sound at first to a bullfrog who was masquerading as the redhead. I had to consciously decide not to believe that. I think my nerves are shot. Damn Krad and his fucked up flying maneuvers. My hands were still shaking.

"It's Cassie Simon, Niwa-_kun_," I said, groaning a little. I pushed myself back onto my feet, wincing slightly as I straightened. A few new bruises, no doubt, has joined the others in decorating my skin. Lovely.

There was a long pause, followed by a more human-sounding noise of surprise from above me. "Simon-san?" Daisuke asked. He poked his head out over the side of his loft. "W-what..? How…how did you get in here?"

Sharply, I jerked a thumb at Krad. "He unlocked the door when you wouldn't answer."

Another pause. "_Anou_…" Daisuke murmured, staring at Krad apprehensively. He didn't look any more thrilled than I was with the idea of Krad breaking and entering. It was nice to know that I wasn't the only one bothered by it, and it was especially gratifying to know that Daisuke agreed with me.

"Why are you here, Simon-_san_?" the redhead finally asked as he tore his eyes away from my unpleasant escort.

A bit sheepishly, I admitted, "I need Dark's help." At Daisuke's uncomprehending expression, I realized belatedly that he hadn't heard about the Harada twins' kidnapping yet. I let my voice soften a little, as I always did when bearing bad news. "The killer took the Harada girls. Just hours ago."

Shock spread over Daisuke's face. "What?"

"Risa and Riku are gone," I repeated. "Krad and I just came from the scene. We were hoping that Dark, or someone in your family, would have some information about where he might have taken them. If we can find him quickly, we might get to them in time. But I don't know how much time we have left."

I don't think I've ever seen any person move as fast as Daisuke did, leaving a blur when he jumped down from the loft. I blinked slowly, unconvinced that he could really move that swiftly. When my eyes were open once again, it wasn't Daisuke who shared the room with Krad and me. It was Dark.

The Phantom Thief dashed to the door of the room and flung it open. "Towa!" he yelled out the door. "I need you!" He spun around, eyes searching. "With?" he called, hand outstretched.

A ball of white fluff raced to Dark instantly, practically scampering over my toes. The movement was so sudden that I stumbled backwards in surprise. I ended up loosing my balance, and I would have fallen flat on my back if Krad hadn't been standing only three or four feet behind me. So, instead of the floor, I backed ungracefully into the sadist.

"Get off," he commanded immediately.

"My thoughts exactly," I muttered to myself.

"Now."

Just to be petty, I elbowed him in the stomach before taking a step forward and turned to face him, crossing my arms. I opened my mouth, ready to give him a piece of my mind, but I didn't get the chance since another person joined us and Dark in the room. A bundle of nervous, chaotic energy accompanied the new addition. It was almost like the feeling that I sometimes got from songbirds and small rodents. Very fluttery.

I turned to get a good look at whoever it was and discovered a young woman in a purple maid's outfit. I was startled to realize that my bird analogy wasn't far off. She was avian-like. Her build was thin and delicate looking, and her hands flapped through the air as she anxiously demanded why Dark had shouted for her. Her voice, too, had a birdish quality to it. Very high pitched and rushed, just like birdsong.

"Towa," Dark said very quietly. Just the one word. So very soft, yet so full of command. His amethyst eyes flashed in barely suppressed rage and worry. Concern made his eyebrows knit and my skin began to crawl as I was suddenly aware of all the swarming emotions snaking around the room.

The bird-girl, Towa, fell silent, a serious expression settling across her face. I got the feeling that it wasn't often she wore such a face. "What do you need me to find?" she asked, just as solemn as Dark. Her voice, now much more even with gravity, was still high pitched, but a musical quality underscored her speech. Her jewel-bright emerald eyes swirled with an energy that I was starting to recognize. It was the same sort of power that flowed through Krad and Dark. This Towa wasn't human, not like I was.

"Not 'what'," Dark corrected, "Who. I need you to find a stone statue. It's housing the soul of Hikari Shoji. Can you find him?"

"I can try." Her eyes flicked over to me and Krad for the first time. She opened her mouth then closed it as she glanced at Dark. "It may take time, though," she added. Her eyes kept straying to Krad fearfully. She wasn't comfortable at all with him around.

"We don't have that much time," I said before Dark could. "You'll have to do whatever it is you do quickly. He's not going to keep the girls for nearly as long as he kept the others. In fact…" I swallowed thickly. "I would say that we have a couple more hours at best."

"Shit!" Dark swore softly. He ran a hand over is face and through his hair, continuing to swear under his breath in several different languages.

Drawing herself up to her diminutive height, Towa set her shoulders stiffly. "Then I will have to hurry." A small waver found its way into her words. The worry that she wouldn't succeed in time made her doubt herself, but that doubt would push her to work faster. I wasn't about to try to reassure her. I simply nodded at her to get along with whatever she needed to do.

The maid marched herself past me to the balcony, Dark following close behind her. Both jumped up into the air, most likely to reach the roof.

"How will she be able to find them?" I asked Krad.

"She is the _Towa no Shirube_, the Eternal Guide. It is her purpose to find that which cannot be found. She is one of the youngest Hikari works in existence."

He was staring after them pensively, the expression on his face almost indescribable. It was thoughtful, even solemn. Without thinking, I laid a hand on his arm. "We should follow them."

"No, we shouldn't," the angel answered. His burnt topaz eyes shifted to meet my own. "The Guide is working. Going now would distract her. She performs best when there is less interference close to her. Dark being in such close proximity to her is going to cause her enough problems. There is no reason to slow her powers with our impatience. We will wait here for them."

"How do you know she's already started?" I asked, leaving my hand on his arm. He didn't seem to mind and it felt good to touch something real. Life was getting stranger and stranger by the second for me.

A sudden thrum of energy passed through me. My entire body prickled with static electricity, my heart and blood pounding in response.

Eyebrow quirked knowingly, Krad simply looked up at the ceiling. "That is how."

* * *

They really were perfect. Smooth, porcelain skin. Dark, lustrous hair. Perfectly shaped almond eyes. Lithe bodies. Even their fear was perfect. Shoji knew that they would be his greatest work yet. 

It was no matter that he wouldn't have the appropriate time with them. They were perfect like none of the other swans were. She would be pleased with these offerings.

Salvation. He could almost taste it. Soon, so soon. It was within his grasp. Finally.

Silver flashed. The knife was almost ready. Almost sharp enough. It had to be sharp enough to cut their flesh without trouble. He didn't want the skin to pucker.

They huddled together. Crying. _Sob sob sob…_ He didn't try to stop them like he'd done with the others. He wanted these ones to cry. The red actually complimented them. He wondered how much more red could be added before it became overwhelming.

Blood red looked good on everything. Life colors always did.

He knew what he wanted to do. Cut, slash, paint. Repeat. The concept was obvious. The Gemini constellation. Twins. Mirrors. So damn _perfect_.

One a sun, the other a moon. He could carve their skin with the right symbols and designs. An earring for each of them.

The blade was ready. Light glinted off the metal. It was time. Time for his art, for his obsession. Respectfully, he placed the knife aside. He would start with the simple preparation work first. That was important. That part would not be sacrificed for time. No. This must be done. The canvas could not be properly used if it wasn't readied correctly.

The rod was light. He dragged the swans apart, leaving the short haired moon canvas to watch. He liked that she was watching. Finally, his genius could be witnessed. His glory. Eyes watching wide with awe and fear.

Strong. He felt strong in those eyes. Powerful. He could do this. He could please Kouriko; he could do it this time. Yes, this time…

This time was _perfect_.

A whistle of air. A slap of wood on flesh. Two screams. One horror, one pain. He loved it. Reveled in it.

Another crack of the rod. Another set of shrieks. Another thrill.

He was transforming them. Saving them. Saving himself.

"_Tomatte kudasai_!" the sun swan begged. "_Onegai_!"

"_Imouto ga kizsutsukenai de_," the moon was saying. "_Watashi no kawari ni! Imouto ga hakuhou shite. Onegai!_"

_Ah, so beautiful…_

It was too bad that their screams would have to stop soon.

* * *

Five minutes had passed, and I'd been pacing nervously for three of them. Waiting is always the hard part. Step by step, I crossed Daisuke's room for what I think was the thirty-something time. I'd stopped counting after twenty. Maybe I was already in the forties. 

Krad was lounging against the wall, his wings folded carefully so that they were tucked against his body. His eyes were closed, his brows knitted in concentration. A grimace would occasionally mar his face, but it would be smoothed out quickly every time. Since I could strongly sense Hiwatari's emotions, I assumed that he and Krad were having a conversation.

Another length of the room disappeared under my feet. I couldn't take this much longer. Almost unconsciously, my fingers toyed with the butt of my gun. Pain began to pound through my head, a combination of stress and overexertion. The buzzing sensation from Towa's powers was only adding to the problem. My nerves were, in simple terms, shot all to hell.

"Stop doing that," Krad growled quietly, opening his eyes.

"Doing what?" I asked irritably.

"Pacing. You are causing Satoshi-_sama_ to worry and his concern annoys me."

"So sorry that emotion inconveniences you. But I'm afraid that you're not about to get any sympathy from me. My head feels like its going to explode because of you two and Dark and Daisuke. Oh, and Towa is no help either. Is there anything we can do about that vibration? Like say…making is stop?"

I could practically hear his teeth grinding. More flashes of Hiwatari surfaced and Krad's expression changed again. Now, he looked perplexed. A small frown tugged at his lips.

"What is it?" I asked. What could possibly make Krad look so thoughtful?

Blinking, he focused back on me. "It is none of your concern."

Since he was studying me like a scientist would a bug, I begged to differ, but I kept my mouth shut. Opening it would only cause trouble at this point. I could feel it. So, instead, I raised my eyebrows and willed him to be talkative.

I wasn't surprised when he stayed silent.

And he was still studying me.

Three or four heartbeats went by while I tried not to squirm under the intense gaze. I could still vaguely sense Hiwatari, so I knew that he was still probably talking to Krad, but what in the world could they be discussing that would make Krad stare at me like this? I couldn't think of anything plausible. Even for Krad, this was creepy.

"You can stop that now," I finally said. Enough was enough.

Krad didn't stop. Big surprise. Instead, he quirked his head slightly off-kilter and ordered, "Come here."

"Why?"

"Because I asked."

"You didn't ask. You commanded."

"Semantics. Now come here."

Against my better judgment, I approached him warily. What could he possibly want? Halting around three feet away from him, I waited for him to explain what was going on.

Silently, he waved his hand in a "come closer" gesture.

I took one more step closer and stopped. This is as close as I was going to go.

I guess that my face betrayed that resolve. Krad growled impatiently under his breath and pushed away from the wall, eliminating the space I'd planning on keeping between us in no time. Before I could react, a warm hand was placed against my forehead.

"What are you—?"

"Stay still. Satoshi-_sama_ wishes for me to try something," Krad snapped. His hand moved to my right temple and the left side of my head was soon joined by his other hand. Thumbs smoothed the skin of my forehead and fingers rubbed circles into my temples. A warm sensation sprawled through my head, soothing the ache that had been building there for a while.

Closing my eyes, I hummed involuntarily as the pain disappeared. "You have to teach me how to do this," I murmured. It was heavenly. The only thing I could feel, besides the now faint undertow of emotions in the room, was the dulled down version of Towa's powers. It was as if a thick blanket had been thrown over my psychic senses, muffling everything.

The gentle fingers fell away and I reluctantly opened my eyes. "Thanks." The blanket had thinned a little, but it was still in place. My head no longer was throbbing and all the readings I'd been getting before were now much more tolerable.

"That was merely something my Tamer wished me to experiment with," Krad stated, his tone very hard. "Nothing more."

"All the same," I said, "I'm still thanking you." After all, I'd been raised right. So to speak.

If I'd thought the action was in his repertoire, I would have sworn that Krad rolled his eyes at me. But since I don't think it is, I'll settle for saying that his eyeballs twitched in irritation. That sounds a bit more Krad-ish.

Abruptly, the vibration in the air vanished. Confirming my unvoiced conclusion, Krad immediately announced, "She's finished."

Dark was at the balcony doors milliseconds after that statement. "I know where he took them."

"Where?" Krad and I demanded simultaneously.

Wow. Creepy.

Addressing Krad, Dark answered, "Where the _Toki no Byoushin_ used to be." I know he was speaking solely to Krad since I had no idea whatsoever what he was talking about.

"Is that supposed to mean something?" I asked crossly. I hate being out of the loop.

"Yes," Krad replied. "It means a great deal." He turned to Dark. "How did he open the seals we placed there? Satoshi-_sama_ placed his own wards over yours after the whole ordeal was finished."

"He obviously managed to break them," the thief said. "I can't figure out how, though. It should have been impossible. Or at the very least beyond his skill."

I was thoroughly confused. "What are you talking about?"

"So he had help," Krad muttered, almost to himself. "Perhaps the same person who awakened him centuries earlier than he should have been."

Oh. So that's what they were getting at. Why couldn't they have simply said that in the first place? Is there a rule that says I need a damn cryptograph in order to decipher everything?

Dark leapt up onto the terrace railings. "We need to hurry," he stated.

Knowing he was right, I hurried out onto the balcony, Krad close behind me. He offered his hand to me wordlessly. I placed my hand in his with barely any hesitation. There was no time left for mistrust. The final moves of this cat and mouse game were about to be made, and we couldn't afford to be sluggish.

Squeezing my eyes shut as Krad pulled my body against his own, I braced myself for another flight. I clutched at his shirt when my feet left the ground. Wind whipped my face. I think Dark shouted something, but I was too focused on not panicking to care.

Hold on, girls. We're coming.

* * *

It hurt so much. Riku felt every blow that bastard rained on her twin. Each scream Risa uttered, tore Riku's heart into even smaller pieces. Riku tried to interfere, but she was always knocked aside as easily as a rag doll would have been. 

_How can he be so strong?_ she wondered helplessly. _Or is it that I'm weak?_

But she kept at it. Again, she forced herself to crawl towards Risa. Riku's legs were now too bruised for her to walk, but she could still inch along on her knees.

Risa was curled in the fetal position, trying to protect her soft, vulnerable stomach and face. She was crying and a pain-filled keening sound was coming from the back of her raw throat. Blood trickled down from the small wounds the wooden stick had left behind. Riku knew that her twin had never experienced so much agony, never in her entire life.

Slowly, Riku crawled. _Almost there…_ Her hand stretched out for her sister between blows.

Instinctively knowing that her sister was near, Risa reached for the offered hand. Their fingers brushed against each other, feather light, before they seized each other in vice-like grips.

"_Ane-chan_…" Risa whimpered softly. She lifted her head just enough to look Riku in the eye. Tears ran down both of their faces, staining their skin and the stone floor. "_Nigete_…"

"_Kesshite_," Riku whispered. She would never leave her sister behind, even if she could escape like Risa wanted.

A large hand gripped Riku by the hair, forcing a terrified and enraged shriek from her. The man jerked her head back and studied her stubborn face critically. He shook her slightly, trying to force the twins to part from each other. When that failed, he frowned, obviously displeased.

Riku saw the rod pull back in slow motion, then time seemed to speed up as it descended towards her. The strike caught her in the shoulder and she yelped, tightening her grip on Risa's hand. Risa screamed along with her. The man struck the longer haired girl, attempting to silence her.

Terrified, Riku curled around her sister, trying to protect her.

_Somebody help us!

* * *

_

The flight was mercifully short. The fountain, it turned out, was only a couple minutes away from the Niwa house as the crow flies.

I had a brief moment to examine the fountain before we landed. It was a Western-style design that was reminiscent of Italian or Greek architecture. There were mosaics and engravings all over the thing. I saw no doors or anything that led inside of it, so I wasn't exactly sure how we were supposed to get underground. Was there a passage somewhere else?

Krad touched down behind Dark. The Phantom Thief dashed forward, using the small stone steps in the basin of the fountain to reach a small alcove in the central hub. I saw him touch the stone with his hand, but that was about it. His body obstructed the rest.

Loosening his arms around me, Krad said, "Satoshi-_sama_ is demanding to take over. I do not think it wise, but he insists." He gave me a hard glare. "Do not do anything foolish that will cause him injury."

With those words of "encouragement", Krad's form shimmered with a faint gold light. As the light faded, I was left with tiny spots in my vision and Hiwatari's arms around me. The first was annoying; the second made my heart skip a beat.

He stepped away from me with what I thought to be reluctance. There were so many other emotions emanating from him at that point that I couldn't be sure.

Twisting so that I could glance over my shoulder at Dark's progress with the fountain, I saw, to my amazement, an open doorway. Only an open doorway. Dark was gone, already inside.

"We need to hurry," I said needlessly.

Hiwatari and I ran to the door, sprinting by the time we reached the stairs beyond. I could see nothing but a faint light at the bottom of the spiraling staircase. A huge plus since I couldn't exactly see how far down the bottom actually was.

Pain and fear and exaltation enriched the air. None of them belonged to Dark, Hiwatari, or me.

Just in front of me, Hiwatari pounded down the steps.

Shadows engulfed us.

* * *

(A.N.) Well, that's all for now. Please **REVIEW**. I'll try and get the next chapter out as soon as I can, but I'm not sure exactly when that "soon" will be. Oh, and here are some translations for you guys. If you have any questions, just drop me an email or a pm.

_Okite kudasai—_"Wake up"; a command

_Ima okinasai—_"Wake up now"; a very strong command

_Nani wa_—"What is it?"; plain form

_Anou—_"Um…"

_Toki no Byoushin—_"Second Hand of Time"

_Tomatte kudasai_—"Please stop"; a polite command/request

_Onegai—_"Please"; used when asking a favor

_Imouto ga kizsutsukenai de—_"Don't hurt my (little) sister"; a negative command

_Watashi no kawari ni! Imouto ga hakuhou shite. Onegai!—_"Me instead! Please let my (little) sister go. Please!"

_Ane-chan—_"(Big) Sister"; an affectionate term between sisters

_Nigete—"_Escape"; a command

_Kesshite—_"Never"


	26. Chapter 25

Disclaimer: What a sick, masochistic lion.

Touch

Chapter 25

(A.N.) Hey, everybody! Sorry for the enormous dely in getting the chapter to you all. I'm a lazy future college freshman. XD Not to mention writer's block has been my constant companion for quite a few months. Not fun. This chapter has not been beta'd. I wanted to get this to you readers as soon as possible. So, if you find mistakes, be forgiving about them. But enough of my rambling. Please enjoy the story.

* * *

How many stairs were there? How long had we been running down, spiraling around and around? There was a faint light emanating from the stone stairs, so there was enough light to see only the steps. Everything else was hidden in velvet shadow. It was like descending into Hell. Yeah. Me and Dante.

I could still see Satoshi ahead of me. He didn't seem disconcerted by the lack of light or evidence of an end to the stairs. I could only feel his determination and his anger. Dark's rage was distant to me. He must have gone very far ahead of us for him to be so hard to pick up.

Another minute passed. My lungs were burning slightly, my legs pumped automatically. I was going to regret running like this when I woke up tomorrow morning. If there was a tomorrow morning for me, of course.

Finally, the stairs ended and I found the feeling of a totally flat surface under my feet awkward. The chamber Satoshi and I sprinted into was large and circular. Glittering, glowing symbols were etched into the stone floor in a similar patter to some of the other sites I'd seen in connection to the Hikari family. This was yet another one of their hidey-holes.

"Which why?" I panted. I didn't see a door. Just smooth walls. Where the hell had Dark gone? And where was Hikari Shoji keeping the girls?

"Just keep following me," Satoshi answered, sounding just as breathless as I was. It was good to know that I wasn't the only one affected by the long run.

He let the way, circling until he ducked under the staircase. I looked up, curious. I couldn't see the top of the stairs, but I did notice that the spiral was unsupported. It was just hanging in midair. My stomach did a flip-flop at the thought. Magic stairs or not, there should be beams holding them up anyway. Just to make people like me feel a bit safer.

With some effort, I pushed those thoughts aside and continued after Satoshi on shaking legs. He'd already vanished into a dark archway. A tunnel. Of course it was a tunnel. A nice dark, foreboding tunnel.

This was starting to get too predictable. Bad guys needed to find better hideouts.

I forged ahead, hoping that there would be some sort of light source further along. I had to moderate my pacing, despite time being of the essence. It wouldn't do the Harada girls any good if I ran into a stone wall and knocked myself unconscious.

I could still sense Satoshi, so I used his emotions as a beacon. As long as I could feel his location, I was pretty sure I wasn't going to run face-first into anything except him. Unless he ran into something first. Then I was shit out of luck.

My psychic radar was starting to pick up Dark more strongly. We were closing in on the Phantom Thief, though the sense of the Harada girls or the Hikari didn't seem much closer. Had Dark not reached them yet? How long _was_ this tunnel, exactly?

Faintly, I could see Satoshi's outline just ahead of me. I hadn't been able to do that seconds before. We must have been nearing a light source. And oh-so-slowly, the passage began to lighten, everything washed in a pale vermillion. Magic made my head ache and I had to pull my senses back into myself a bit to keep from being totally overwhelmed. I would have liked to shield myself completely, but that would leave me totally blind. Which was bad. I needed all the extra senses I could get.

I heard Dark before I saw him. He was switching between obscene curses in Japanese and mutterings in what I still believed to be German. Feet planted firmly on the ground, he was facing off with a giant wall of crimson light that blocked the way forward. Satoshi had halted as soon as he'd spotted the obstruction. Drawing up beside him, I said the only that really came to mind. "Shit."

"You read my mind," Satoshi muttered, clearly frustrated. His forehead wrinkled with what I assumed was critical analysis of what could be done to eliminate the barrier.

Dark was busily chanting another spell, ebony feather held before him like a sword. The winged thief glowed a brilliant purple and, for a moment, the red was drowned out by the violet. But they wall fought back, pushing its blood-colored aura against Dark's.

The wall won.

Spitting with fury, Dark squared his shoulders for, I think, round two. But Satoshi was at his side before he could launch another attack. I felt useless, standing back behind them, but I didn't know what to do. I had a gun, determination, and empathy. What good were those against a mystical barrier? None, that's what.

As I watched, Satoshi pulled a pure white feather, one that was identical to the one I'd seen Krad wield only a couple days ago, from absolutely nowhere. Shoulder to shoulder, he and Dark faced the wall together. Again, Dark was engulfed with indigo light, and Satoshi emitted a blue and gold light of his own. The gold had to have come from Krad. In unison, the two of them began a mantra that was, unsurprisingly, in German. I was so going to ask about that later. Why in the world were all their spells in German?

The wall, like it had before, pushed against their light. But this time, it was no match for Dark and Satoshi's combined powers. The wall buckled, bowing outward like a bubble. For a moment, I fully expected for the barrier to go "pop" and disappear in a rush of wind.

Instead, I was disappointed when it simply dissipated into thin air. How anti-climatic.

Warily, still alert for any surprises, I approached the guys and noted that both of them were sweating with exertion. Dark seemed more exhausted than Satoshi. I chalked that up to his more frenzied descent and longer struggle against the wall. "You two alright?" I asked, my eyes already scanning the shadowy hall before us. It wasn't as lightless as the way we'd just come, but it wasn't a bright and happy place either. Why didn't that surprise me?

"Fine," Dark answered tersely. He was already taking to the air again, preparing to dart off once more. He was intent on getting to the twins. His stubborn determination, his anger, his fear… It all washed over me, even with the slight shields I'd constructed minutes previously. I had to take a deep breath and remind myself that those feelings, while I did share them, were not mine. I could not let them rule me. This was probably the worst situation in which to get emotional.

Some days, on some jobs, being an empath is more a handicap than an asset.

In his own response to my question, Satoshi nodded and turned to face me fully. I had to suppress a gasp. His left eye was shining a deep burnished gold. It was Krad's eye. _Jeepers, creepers…how'd you get those eyes…_ Seems that the psychotic angel wasn't going to let us blunder about on our own after all.

Satoshi opened his mouth. I think he was going to explain why Krad was temporarily borrowing his eye. Well, I thought it was temporary, anyway. However, he didn't get to say whatever he wanted to say. Gunshots tend to have that kind of effect on people.

The loud, sharp sound of a gun firing made me instinctively fling myself at Satoshi. "Down!" We hit the floor hard. My breath was knocked out of my chest mid-shout. I needn't have worried, though. The bullet was meant for Dark. I felt a flash of his pain, heard a string of angry cussing, and knew that the gunner's aim had been true. Dark was hit.

Rolling off of Satoshi, I pulled my Berretta from its holster and pointed the muzzle where I thought the shot had originated from. Next to me, Satoshi had a white feather in his hand. It glowed ominously with that wicked blue and gold light. The gold eye, Krad's eye, glinted with rage. Seems that Krad did not take kindly to any sort of gunfire.

Another shot rang out, but Dark was able to avoid the bullet this time. I could see, in the dim light, a dark liquid dripping down from his right arm. The wound didn't seem to be serious, but I could have been wrong. Adrenaline can mask pain well. Well enough to make you think that the injury isn't as bad as it really is. Hopefully, it was only the Thief's shoulder that had caught the bullet, rather than someplace with more arteries.

Once again, I flung my senses as wide as they would go. I don't know what I'd expected to find. Perhaps the Hikari himself. But instead of the normal feelings of thrill or fear that I usually got from people who pull gun triggers, I felt nothing but cool, pragmatic calm. It certainly wasn't Hikari Shoji, but still vaguely familiar. I cursed under my breath, trying to place the psychic signature. It was all in vain. I couldn't match the aura with a name or a face. Not even a vague silhouette crossed my mind. Whoever it was, I had not seen them more than once. It could have even been a total stranger I'd happen to pass on the street.

Looks like we'd found the anonymous one who'd released the Hikari from his confinement.

* * *

Things were going perfectly. He was almost finished with the preparations. The swans lay huddled on the stone floor. Beautiful violet and angry red stood out against their perfect pearl skin. Like a dark sunset already being overwhelmed by luminescent stars.

Hikari Shoji smiled at the image he'd created. Already, his artistic vision was apparent. This was going to be his saving grace. Kouriko would have to forgive him. Would have to. The offering was too wonderful to be ignored.

Sweet whimpers filled his ears. Laden with fear and pain. So, so sweet in their agony. His swans were becoming more and more beautiful with every blow he rained down upon them. One. Two. Three. Four… Not even screams broke his rhythm.

Enough. Enough now. Too much would ruin them. He laid the wooden rod down, admiring his handiwork.

"_Onegai…_" the long haired swan, his moon, pleaded. "_Tomatte…_"

Poor little moon. The pain must have muddled her silly head. Did she not see how beautiful she was now? "_Kirei…_" the Hikari murmured.

Silver flashed. The knife felt good in his hand. So good. So familiar. This was it. The bottom line, the end. He would move carefully now. Slowly. One misstep and everything would collapse.

This was going to be his Pieta. This would surpass all the previous masters.

This was his salvation.

* * *

I would have never expected the Hikari's savior to be Chief Hiwatari. But there the man was, standing above and to the left of us on a balcony I had not noticed before. No doorway was visible anywhere near him. I was betting that there was some sort of secret passage that led him there.

"_Uragirimono_," Satoshi hissed from beside me. His voice mingled with the deeper tone of Krad's voice, and the mix was unsettling. Though the mismatched eyes in Satoshi's face were even stranger. Unsettling was actually a gross understatement, but I didn't have a stronger description for it. Not now. Maybe if I sit down with a thesaurus later, I could find something more apt.

"Don't you think you're being too harsh, Satoshi?" Chief Hiwatari mused, the gun in his hand level with Dark's head. "A son shouldn't speak so to his father."

"You are not my father!" Satoshi and Krad snapped together. They were boiling over with anger. I think it was the first time that I'd ever felt their emotions in sync with each other.

The dialogue was very Star Wars.

The police chief hummed to himself. Whether it was in disapproval or agreement, I couldn't tell. Not even his emotions gave him away. Chief Hiwatari was definitely one fucking cool customer. He was a giant mass of aloof calm, so assured in his position of superiority. The guy was threatening to beat Krad out of the Most Arrogant Man I've Ever Met Award. And that was very, very hard to do.

My gun was leveled at Chief Hiwatari's chest. His gun was pointed at Satoshi. I thought that I could shoot him before he fired Satoshi, but I wasn't sure. Not by any stretch of the imagination. Dark hovered angrily on the sidelines, clearly waiting for the chief to be distracted enough for the thief to pounce.

We were at a stand-off. The whole situation smacked of a stalling tactic. And it was working beautifully. While we wasted our time with Chief Hiwatari, the twins were being tortured. I had no illusions about what was happening to them. I'd seen the other victims' bodies, felt their memories. The Harada girls were experiencing pain beyond pain. The only way out of the situation was for Dark to do something amazingly miraculous.

Shit.

Not that I didn't expect him to come to mine and Satoshi's aid. I just suspected that he was going to do something stupidly heroic. A go-in-with-guns-blazing sort of thing. And I would bet my paycheck that such an action could probably be wholly blamed on Daisuke's heart of gold. Heroics seemed more the redhead's gig, while Dark was mainly one for the theatrics. Separately, those traits were perfectly fine. But together… Well, based on personal experience, bad things happen and plans go awry.

And, damn, if that isn't what happened.

With a loud cry that was clearly meant to draw attention, Dark arrowed through the air, straight at Chief Hiwatari. Unfortunately, the shout, while achieving its purpose, also caused the traitor's finger to tighten instinctively on the trigger. The gun gave yet another explosive crack, and a bullet came flying… Right at Satoshi.

* * *

Annoying sounds broke the Hikari's concentration. Right as his blade had pierced the sun's flesh. Anger filled him. Such distractions could have caused irreversible damage. Terrible, unforgivable damage.

The little sun swan glared defiantly at him, eyes glittering wonderfully with tears of pain. The sun was quieter than the moon. Harder to break. She burned with her stubbornness. Just a sun should. Burn, burn, burn. Golds and reds and oranges. Those colors were provided by her blood and hair. The deep purple of the lovely bruises he'd added gave the impression of a sunset._ Perfect_. Thank the gods that those horrid noises had not caused him to mar his sun.

Shoji stood frozen. One second. Two. Silence.

Satisfied that no other distractions would occur, he brought the blade down once again. The sun screamed. Blood bloomed like delicate rosettes. Perfect. Absolutely perfect. Almost finished with this design. The knife was lifted again, ruby drops trembling delicately on the sharp edge.

_Crack!_

Another of those damn noises! The Hikari cursed foully. The knife dropped to his side. Searing ire ripped through him. How dare someone continue to interrupt his work? His offering to his love?

He would put an end to such foolishness. For good.

Long knife clasped lovingly in his pliant stone palm, he left the swans on the floor. Bleeding. Beautiful. Weak and immobile, almost unconscious. They were not going anywhere.

Sigil glowing, the secret door opened at a mere wave of his hand.

He would wait for the intruders to come. Then he could finish his most beautiful work to date.

* * *

Through no effort of mine, considering that I was completely frozen by what I assume was shock, Satoshi was only grazed by the bullet. He'd dodged to the side almost immediately, clearly not suffering from the paralysis that I had. Lucky him. That bullet could have easily torn a vital organ to shreds. Chief Hiwatari was not using small caliber ammunition.

Though his shoulder sill bled like a stuck pig despite being only grazed.

Dark attempted to seize the chief's firearm, but was forced to twist out of the way as another shot was fired. The thief's wing was clipped and I heard, and felt, a flash of pain from that tiny fuzzball acting as Dark's wings.

"Keep going!" Dark shouted, all command. "I can take care of this!"

I didn't need telling twice. Neither did Satoshi, though I detected some annoyance from Krad. My guess is that the twisted angel didn't like obeying any sort of order given by Dark. Or by anyone else for that matter.

Satoshi and I sprinted through the archway that led into the tunnel. It wasn't pitch black, thank God, but it was still dark enough to challenge my sight. What a surprise. Not. Evil things always prefer the shadows if they can get them. And this underground hellhole was thick with looming darkness.

The sounds of gunshots became increasingly distant, despite the warped acoustics of the tunnel that seemed to propagate loud echoes. Dark's taunts and shouts punctuated the shots, creating a strange staccato of violence. It was pure torture to simply turn my back on him. My instincts told me to stand and fight, to prevent the pain that the thief experienced each time a lucky bullet hit flesh. But my rational mind was still in arguably working order and I was able to override the impulse to go back. I focused on what lay ahead, on those who truly needed saving.

Sooner than I expected, the tunnel gave way to another chamber. Stone turned to hard packed dirt and clay beneath my feet. Soft yellow light assailed my eyes. I halted abruptly, almost tripping in my haste. Satoshi stopped a few paces ahead of me and I could see his left hand clamped on his right shoulder, attempting to slow the bleeding. A twinge of concern, along with his own repressed pain, spread through my heart. I ignored it, instead scanning the fire lit cavern with a wary gaze.

Compared with the rest of this underground hell, it was well lit. And, surprisingly, it was furnished with a bed, some tables, and chairs. There were shelves carved out of the walls. Most of the tables were draped with black cloth, and the metal objects on top of those tables glittered dully in the light. Like some sort of macabre jewelry display.

There was no other path in or out of the chamber other than the way we had come. Was this the end of the line? I could feel the twins' combined pain, but my shields kept me from knowing exactly how close they were. I could drop them and risk the overload, or I could search the room the old-fashioned way. There really wasn't a choice, really. Even a minute wasted would cost the twins more than I could imagine.

Letting Satoshi proceed ahead of me as he searched with his normal senses, I stayed still and closed my eyes. Reluctantly, I dropped my shields, immediately cringing. Agony infused in my very bones. It was excruciating. My skin burned with bruises, abrasions, and incisions. My muscles cramped from being curled in the same position. My throat was raw from my screamed pleas. My heart ached with fear for my sister. And with fear of _him_.

They were here. Somewhere. This pain was too vivid for them not to be close. "Satoshi," I half-groaned, my eyelids slowly opening. It hurt to talk. "They're in this chamber. I can feel it."

Expression tightening, he nodded in acknowledgement. I sensed his concern, and it was directed at me. I suppose that I wasn't exactly looking my best. I had the suspicion that I was paler than any ghost and that there quite possibly were welts on my flesh. It sure felt like there were, to say the least.

We split up, taking different halves of the cavern without exchanging words. It was one of those natural decisions that sometimes happens when you've worked with or known someone long enough. Satoshi and I may not have known each other for more than two weeks, but what we lacked in length of time, we made up for with amount of horror we'd seen. This sort of shit counts for something. In fact, it counts for a lot.

I stepped cautiously, letting all my senses stay in play. The twins' agony was at a point that it was too great for me to know whether they were closer or farther from me as I searched. But, even through that pain, I was still able to pick up other emotional signatures. If Shoji came into this chamber, I would know.

My eyes strained through the dim light. I stepped around a chair, pausing to examine the tools laid out on one of the ebony covered tables. Knives. Flails. Paintbrushes. Lengths of rope. It was enough to make me feel sick to my stomach. "Twisted bastard," I muttered darkly to myself.

I continued on, gun out and the safety off. I listened intently for the sounds of life. Breathing. Crying. Anything. But all I could hear were the distant sounds of gunshots and shouts and blasts. Dark and Chief Hiwatari were still at it.

It was only after another couple minutes that Satoshi gave a cry of discovery. I was bolting to his side before he could call me over. He was kneeling on the floor, murmuring reassurances in Japanese to the twins and feeling for their pulses.

The Harada girls were on the floor, hidden by a hulking table covered in the same black cloth as the other ones. I didn't look at the instruments on the table. I was thoroughly passed wanting to know. The girls weren't bound by anything, but that didn't matter. They were so battered that I doubted they could move. Even with gloves on, I brought my shields up before I helped Satoshi turn them onto their backs. I wasn't going to take any chances. Though, for all my efforts, I still got flashes in my mind's eye of what had been done to them. A first hand experience.

Gritting my teeth, I pulled Risa, who was closest to me, up into a sitting position and shook her a bit. Her expression remained slack and unresponsive, though the faint rise and fall of her chest confirmed that she was still alive. Riku wasn't in much better shape. She kept having lucid moments, but they were over before they'd begun. She'd no sooner have a spark of recognition in her eyes than she'd already be back to the same blank stare as her sister.

"At least they're alive," I muttered, exchanging a glance with Satoshi. I was surprised to find that I wasn't even the least bit distracted by the gold of his left eye anymore. Go figure.

"True," he responded, working to lift Riku. His shoulder had stopped bleeding and it looked as if it was in the process of healing. Krad's influence, no doubt. However, it still wasn't completely taken care of and it was impeding his attempt to pick Riku up smoothly. Though he did manage it. Barely. "We can rejoice later," he continued once he stood with her in his arms. "Let's get out of here before he comes back."

Not about to even try to emulate Satoshi's method of carrying, I coaxed Risa's slack arms to hang over my shoulders and hooked my arms under her knees. Piggy-back was the way to go. I straightened a bit unsteadily, my balance thrown by the dead weight attached to my back. But, like Satoshi, I eventually made it to my feet. "Right. Lead the way."

And, slowly, we began to head back the way we had come.

Before we reached the tunnel, an echoing bang reached my ears, coming from that small chamber where Dark and Chief Hiwatari were fighting. That single shot was not followed by any other sounds. No shouts, no… nothing. The silence wasn't only deafening. It was terrifying. Was the silence the sort that follows an execution? Or was it the sound of Dark's victory?

Satoshi looked over his shoulder at me, his face readable. He wanted to know the same thing I did. Was Dark dead? I only said, "Give me a minute." Then, I closed my eyes once again and inched my mental barriers down. With Risa draped on my back, it was very hard to concentrate on finding Dark's essence. In fact, it was impossible.

**The rod is striking my back. I am screaming, and so is Riku. Her hand is in mine, the only thing that keeps me from giving up and passing out. I will not leave her, not for a second, not in any way. Even if it means that I have to endure this. **

**Oh, gods and ancestors! A knife. He has a—**

I slammed my shields back up. I was breathing hard, sweat pouring from my skin. "That was a bad idea," I groaned. My back was aching more than ever.

"_Daijoubu?_" Satoshi asked, turning back around. Clearly, his face reflected concern. I even detected a hint of it in Krad's golden eye as I was surveyed.

And here I thought today couldn't get any stranger.

"_Hai_," I sighed. The wounds were fading. I could feel it. "Let me try again."

Disapprovingly, he frowned. "You just said that was a bad—" He abruptly cut himself off, both eyes fixed on something passed my shoulder. "Get down!" he shouted, already in motion. He dropped to the floor and, when I hesitated in utter confusion, kicked my feet out from under me.

I fell forward, releasing Risa's legs to keep my face from smashing into the dirt. Risa gave a small cry at the sudden movement. Which, considering her former unresponsiveness, was a good thing indeed.

Light, vermillion in color, streaked over our heads, colliding with the arch of stone that was the entrance to the tunnel. Chunks of rock flew at the moment of impact, showering down on us.

Twisting so that I had the injured girl sheltered from the falling stones as best I could, I was already reaching for my gun. I felt like an idiot for putting it away so soon. But, then again, I could have sworn that the damn cavern had been empty.

A sinking feeling in my gut, I turned around, keeping my crouched position. That red light had been sickeningly familiar. Praying that I was wrong, I lifted my eyes to see the threat that had appeared.

God must have had other things to worry about. Hikari Shoji stood but a few yards away, feet braced solidly and hands glowing in that lurid, blood hued light. A hole in the wall that had not been there before was behind him. A secret room. Figures.

Satoshi was on his feet once more, leaving Riku on the floor. The short-haired girl appeared totally uncomprehending of what was going on. The same went for Risa. Probably for the best, really. This was going to be one fight that they weren't going to want to witness.

The light I'd come to identify with Krad, that clear and golden glow, emanated from Satoshi's body. His clothes and hair seemed to sway in a non-existent wind. Whether Krad would make an actual appearance was up for grabs, but he was definitely involved. Is it weird to find that comforting? Probably.

Looks like this whole thing was about to be decided once and for all.

I cocked the hammer of my gun. Unnecessary considering it was a semi-automatic, but it added something to the grave atmosphere.

This was going to be one hell of a finale.

* * *

(A.N.) Well, there you are. With a bit of a cliff-hanger to boot. Reviews are much loved so please leave them. And you can find translations of the Japanese used in this chapter below. Ta-ta for now. I'll try to get the next chapter to you as soon as creatively possible.

_Onegai_—"Please"; used when asking a favor

_Tomatte_—"Stop"; command

_Kirei_—"Pretty" or "Beautiful"

_Uragirimono_—"Traitor"

_Daijoubu?_—"Are you okay/alright/well?"; plain form

_Hai_—"Yes"


End file.
